It’s that time of year again where social convention encourages us to take a long hard look at ourselves and our lives and decide that they suck, so we must fix them using misery and muscle pain and cottage cheese. No one likes cottage cheese.
As the gyms get busier and the new-non-smokers get grumpier I too will be improving my life, but just in little ways.
I will stop being irrationally enraged by the very existence of Jo Whiley. I will keep up to date with the laundry. I will no longer spend my weekends in bed dozing through the holy trinity of Marple, Morse and Midsomer. This is time wasted and not nourishing culture, despite the fact Joan Hickson’s voice lowers my blood pressure. I’ll stop worrying about my blood pressure as it doesn’t seem to like stress, strangely. I will stop giving sarcastic remarks to road users who don’t thank me for letting them in. I will read more books and watch more films but not Westerns or war films or anything by anyone involved with ‘The Notebook’ or ‘Who Will Love My Children’.
I will learn about local politics on a deeper level than ‘they are all a shower of shites’. I’ll throw out that denim skirt with the label still on it – it has never fitted and never will, short of the removal of one of my legs. I’ll eat more vegetables and less pizzas. Perhaps I’ll finally learn how to put the wine bottle down. I will see a flashmob. Maybe this year I’ll learn that checking the back door at bedtime is to stop us being burgled and not a sneaky excuse to scoff Bourbons from the biscuit barrel.
I’ll not pretend to get thinner or fitter or wipe out my VISA bill. Life is too short for such boring and unattainable goals, but if I can get through the next year with the friends I’ve got, 2015 is going to rock.
So happy New Year to you one and all, and remember no one wants to hear about your diet.
True friends just want you to pass the crisps.