Last week my sister, who lives abroad, flew back to her home distraught – all because minutes before she was meant to set off to the airport, she realised she was missing her lucky key chain.

Panic turned to barely restrained wailing: “I’ve never travelled without that key chain.” Ultimately she had to because, find it we couldn’t.

Being quite a pro of idiosyncratic quirky ceremonies myself – I never travel without my 30-year old green comb, even if the last time I combed my hair must have been, erm, 30 years ago – I could empathise. I absolutely hate it when a little silly-but-comforting ritual gets busted.

However, I have a theory that for some odd reason the month of January brings out an increasingly superstitious trait in all of us. Each year, I spend the last week of December tidying loose ends: from settling my VAT returns to feng shui-ing relationships. My heart and my balance sheet have to be nice and neat come the first week of January.

I am also very particular about the New Year’s Eve midnight moment. I’m not too keen on celebrating it because I have this stupid belief that a lame mistletoe moment, will result in a year of kissing unsuitable men. (Perhaps I shouldn’t complain about that too much – they’re good fodder for this column, after all).

Then, in January most style magazines unleash upon us the annual horoscope predictions – which we all read, despite pretending to be only interested in everybody else’s except ours.

If you must know, my Scorpio sign foresees a whole year centring around “the magical encounter between Jupiter and Uranus on January 4 (that’s the partial eclipse for you and I), which will bring about stunning improvements especially in terms of love and life’s pleasures.”

Tsk. Heard that? Because of the newspaper deadlines, I’m not quite sure what I’ll actually be doing by the time you read this. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have been whisked away by Brad Pitt to a white beach by the turquoise sea of Zanzibar and I’ll be sipping a Bloody Mary under the shade of a pink umbrella.

More likely, I’m still holed up in my humid home, fretting because my daughter is insisting on opening up her pink umbrella indoors.

Inwardly, I’ve gone mental and am screaming: “No, no, bad luck!” Outwardly, I’m the perfect picture of a sane, balanced mother: “That’s nice dear. Best not open it inside next time (nervous laugh), or you might scare poor old Toots (the dog)”.

But it wasn’t just the partial eclipse last week which pressed our superstitious buttons – we even had a double rainbow. We’re all agreed that rainbows are good omens. And a double one means double the chances of finding a pot of gold underneath.

If it weren’t all the way in Xewkija, I would have jumped in the car, chased it, got the pot, said to hell with Brad, and booked myself that holiday in Zanzibar.

So why does January do this to us? As luck would have it, I came across a bit of research which explains why we’re all edgy and illogical during the first month of the year: it’s stress that does it.

Apparently, according to a study by the Northwestern University in Illinois, stress makes people more superstitious.

Now it is universally acknowledged that January is the most stressful month of the year. Christmas leaves us perching on bankruptcy with a whole year of economic doom and price hikes stretching ahead of us.

Financially, the only prospect of improving our salary is a career change to MP, but even so, general elections are a long two years away.

So for wont of better things, we get all superstitious. This is, however, normal behaviour in all organisms as they struggle to make sense of an uncertain world, say researchers at Harvard University.

People have evolved to be superstitious because it pays to take a “better-safe-than-sorry” approach to life, claims the Harvard study.

This is a consolation for those of us who like to think of ourselves as rational people but know that we’re not.

It’s good to know that in the power and celebrity corridors superstition is rife: Tony Blair always wore the same pair of shoes for Prime Minister’s Questions.

During his presidential campaign, Barack Obama carried a lucky poker chip. Ronan Keating had to phone his wife before every performance.

Luciano Pavarotti had that hanky. Richard Gere carries little crystals for their protective energy. Brad Pitt wears a shark tooth necklace.

And my sister had her lucky key chain. In the event, despite the missing item, she got home safe and sound.

I’m still knocking on wood as I type, though.

krischetcuti@gmail.com