An old one for the new year

I do love the concept of new year resolutions. Never mind what the cynics say, and never mind what we all know (now that we're all grown up and wise) about every day being a fresh start and why wait for a new year. There is something incredibly wonderful about the naive optimism that accompanies new year resolutions. A new year is a completely new slate, a new page of a diary, a brand new beginning unsmudged by the misdeeds and inertia of the year gone by. Of course it will be much easier this year to do all that we haven't managed for the last 20. This year will be different. This year noble intentions will actually turn into noble reality.

What would we do without the chance to begin afresh every year?

As I sip my last Martini (I'm giving them up from next year) and chomp into my last chocolate (ditto) I choose my words carefully while crafting my list of leaves to turn over. It is a delicate matter, this crafting of new year resolutions. It is a battle of wits between the Noble Self who is bursting with good intentions and the Pragmatic Self who wants to take things one at a time. "Pound away on the treadmill for at least an hour a day", thunders the Noble Self. "Uh, maybe we should aim for 20 minutes a week initially?" says Pragmatic Self coaxingly. And then there is the Wily Self who likes the sound of the noble intentions but wants to get there without the effort. No prizes for guessing which self I like best.

The trick, of course, is in getting the phrasing right. I discovered this purely by chance last year when, much to my astonishment I found myself putting a joyful tick against the Gym Resolution. Been there, done that! The resolve on paper had been to join a gym ... and join I did (pointed out Wily Self). For 3 whole months, I was a bonafide, fully paid-up member of Nirvana - the unfriendly neighbourhood manufacturer of toned bodies and aching muscles. The number of times these limbs actually made contact with those terrifying machines is of course nobody's business but mine. This year, unfortunately, Noble Self has added to the list a resolution to not waste money, which means I can only fork out the gym fees if I intend to put my muscles where my money is. Unless Wily Self can come up with new interpretations of not wasting money.

Meanwhile, the pointlessness of giving up Martinis altogether has just dawned on Pragmatic Self. Perhaps restricting them to one a week is better. Ummm ... maybe two. Besides, giving them up clashes with resolution number 3, to enjoy every moment.

Like I said, this year will be different.

Happy new year everyone, and may all your good intentions turn to reality. Good luck with your resolutions, have fun breaking them ... and may this year truly be different for all of us.