Why bash so big?

Maybe it was Seasonal Affective Disorder – depression triggered by a lack of sunlight – that made me a sick child every January.

Growing up in cold, grey English winters meant the end of Christmas lights left a massive black hole at the start of the year – and school came around in the first week!

Not so here. Australian summer holidays offer a buffer against harsh reality, granting the option to party through the season.

In fact, the medieval world did just that, celebrating Christmas right through to Candlemas, on February 2.

The date marked the presentation of Jesus in the Temple, and the end of Mary's confinement, 40 days after Christmas.

It also follows a more ancient tradition celebrating the return of the light, being halfway between solstice and equinox, a milepost on the journey from winter into spring.

In Australia that climatic trigger is missing as the heat goes on and on; but the underlying urge to keep the good times rolling seems hard-wired.

Some say the reason we traditionally wrap up Christmas on Twelfth Night – January 5 – is that biblical literalists wanted to focus attention on Epiphany, the legend of the Three Kings.

But Epiphany is just another version of Christmas, an event described differently in Luke and Matthew's Gospels.

Luke's nativity story of the shepherds and the stable is undated, but became associated with the Roman festival of Sol Invictus – the undefeated Sun - observed just after the solstice, December 21-22, when days became longer.

Celebrating Matthew's tale of the Wise Men or "Magi" 12 days later is a bit of a furphy since the text suggests the trio from the east arrived up to two years after the birth.

But celebrating Christmas 2015 in 2015, and Epiphany 2015 in 2017 would be too much of a Marty McFly-Doctor Who party trick.

So let's swim through to February 2, for so many other reasons.

For one, there's no use getting sober if you've got to get drunk again, and of course we all have a drink on Australia Day, if only to prove we aren't wowsers, or terrorists, or whatever is "un-Australian" this month.

And the Scots have Burns Night on January 25, just to get in the mood for the first cleansing ale on the morning of the 26^th.

At this point I must declare a personal interest: February 2 is my son's birthday, as it was for Shakespeare's son, Hamnet; so Bill and I will be raising the wrist on that blessed day when our beamish boys blow out their candles, in spirit at least.

But wait, there's more. Mardi Gras, or "Fat Tuesday", when tradition suggests we empty all the treats from the cupboard before the austerity of Lent, falls this year on February 9. It's a religious "Holy Day" just like Christmas.

Don't believe me? Just look at the beatific luminosity on the faces of the Carnival dancers in Rio (on the faces, I said). They're not parading their assets for the sheer hell of it, there's a sound theological reason to. Blessed are the cheese makers, after all.

In fact, the joys of carnival season in the Catholic world are just a promise of things to come. Suck it in for the 6½ weeks of Lent and it's Easter – chocolate is back in season, family barbecues get another thrash and we all drink a final toast before … Anzac Day … footy … whatever.

Which brings us to cricket.

Just why has the Big Bash taken off in the past two years? From humble beginnings it's now compelling viewing, live and on TV.

There is a theory that cricket itself is a religious game. Eleven men dressed in white – symbol of purity – are ruled over by one man, known in olden days as "noumpere", from the French "non-pareil", meaning "without peer".

Of course, Jesus had a full dozen disciples. But wasn't one of them left on the outer, condemned not to be a team player? Judas Iscariot, the original 12^th man, take a bow.

So when we crack the first cold one and tune in to the Scorchers, Raiders, Thunder et al, aren't we just giving the kids a modern morality play? And the Boxing Day Test, from the hallowed turf of the MCG; what could be more reverential?

Or maybe, as in time immemorial, we just aren't ready to put out the lights - and the party goes on.