Strikes, freezing weather, energy bills – is this cruellest winter?

It's said that Scandinavians don’t dread the cold and dark the way many of us here do, because they focus on the things they love about the season. I’m not entirely convinced. Lots of us here also enjoy the trappings of winter, but they feel more like a compensation for the hardships that have to be endured, rather than a reason to love them.

But if I am wrong, and our Scandi cousins anticipate sub-zero temperatures with the excitement of cooped-up kids desperate to go a-wassailing, on an individual and national level they are far better equipped to cope with the worst of the elements.

Here, meanwhile, we lurch from one wintry blast to the next, each seeming to arrive as a revelation. Bitterly cold as we are right now, thanks to the Troll from Trondheim – the list of grudges against Norway gets longer – news bulletins report ice and snow in a tone that suggests there’s been some contractual breach, since it isn’t meant to get this Baltic until January at the very least.

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By international standards, our winters generally are nothing to complain about. No need for us to create underground cities, as in Montreal, for those months when only polar bears can comfortably window shop at ground level. That said, British housing is among the worst in Europe for insulation, which can make even a brief cold snap feel challenging.

Perhaps that’s why such a fuss is made of Christmas. The romance with which gift-giving and entertaining and family get-togethers are imbued feels like a collective exercise in viewing a hostile, ice-bound world through rose-tinted spectacles. And as I write, looking out onto a scenic view of unsullied snow, with birds puffed up like meringues and trees that look as if they’ve stepped out of a Christmas card, what’s wrong with that? Surely it’s better to have a bit of cheer at this time of year. If you can stave off the gloom until after Hogmanay, then it’s not such a long wait until the first signs of spring.

Whether or not you fall for the saccharine but enticing Yuletide hype and hyperbole, the reality of the next few months for many is hardship and hard-going. In ordinary circumstances, whether it’s fear of slipping and breaking an ankle to trepidation at being caught on the roads in treacherous conditions, winter brings an array of issues that can cause sleepless nights.

This year, however, is like no other. It is as if the spirit of winter has infused almost every aspect of our lives. We could be living in Narnia, the land of endless snow and ice, where everything is designed to make us shiver and there’s no prospect of spring ever arriving to rescue us.

The price of fuel and electricity promised to make this an especially difficult time; even if you’re not in the environs of Braemar, the need to put on the central heating, despite several layers of thermals, means anxiety over bills will be rocketing just when the additional costs of Christmas are mounting. I doubt there’s anyone who hears the click of the boiler going on without wondering what it’ll all cost.

This heating crisis, when added to rising price of almost everything in the stores, seemed set to signal a winter like no other in recent memory. But as if all this were not enough to contend with, it has become clear that while winter is allegedly the season of good will, it is also the cue for manning the barricades and picket lines. We’re lucky in Scotland that the impending strike by ambulance workers and hospital staff has, by and large, been averted, although at the time of writing the Royal Colleges of Nursing and Physiotherapists have yet to agree the new pay deal.

The rest of the UK is not so fortunate, and faces NHS strikes before and after Christmas, which make the prospect of falling gravely ill – or simply falling – grimmer than ever. Bad enough needing to call an ambulance any day of the year, when you don’t know how long you’ll have to wait for one to appear. And once it has reached you, there’s the worry of how long before it can off-load you into hospital, where you can be left on a trolley for hours, despite a regular rota of staff on duty.

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Oliver Dowden, the Cabinet Office minister, has urged staff in England not to take action because of the risk to patients, citing the “effect of winter weather” as an added hazard. On strike days, I expect those of us who don’t feel particularly robust will be staying indoors and praying we don’t trip over the cat. If that means not bagging the last turkey on the shelves, then so be it.

By comparison, the aggravation of Royal Mail’s walk-outs preventing cards and presents reaching people in time seems a minor inconvenience. Looming almost as large as the NHS disruption, however, are the escalating strikes on the railways. Regardless of industrial action, travelling at this time of year is always potentially a hassle, with the threat of trains breaking down, or staff shortages because of illness bringing last-minute cancellations. Now, with strikes planned on Christmas Eve, and the timetable not resuming until later on December 27th, getting to your destination for the festivities – or getting away afterwards, which can be equally essential – is more of a headache than ever.

One reporter described this and next month’s rolling tally of strikes as looking like an advent calendar. From airport baggage handlers, Highway Workers, Border Force to Royal Mail, from bus contractors, ambulance workers, nurses, teachers to driving instructors, almost every day opens a window on a festering grievance. This is a winter of discontent on a scale not even Shakespeare would have recognised.

“People don’t notice whether it’s winter or summer when they’re happy,” said Chekhov. As we’re discovering, when workers aren’t happy, winter – testing enough in the best of times – grows immeasurably harsher.