Obligatory New Year Resolutions Blog

There is something comforting about the diurnal course we tread through life, the gentle rhythms of day to night, winter to spring, Larkrise to Candleford and so on. It has always puzzled me, therefore, why we feel the need to take a break halfway through the Christmas festivities and start attempting to make ourselves into better people via the medium of list.

If there is a good time to consider where one is going wrong in life and make a plan of the best way to correct it, I have yet to find it. I’m sure there are people who like to sit at a desk with a pen and paper, vigorously underlining the things they write down and positively applying them to their lives. Obviously I don’t know anybody like that because if I did I would have to move to Hull in an effort to avoid them and I really don’t want to live in Hull.
It follows that the worst time of all to plan ways of improving what is going wrong, is halfway through a gluttonous week of celebratory goodness. Dropping the box of After Eights you have been scoffing at the stroke of midnight is only going to depress you and make it feel like Christmas is over. Christmas isn’t over until Epiphany and the last great calorific splurge of the Epiphany cake (which is, by the way, the only thing the French ever got right. It’s a shame they ruined it with the obligatory Gallic humoured “game” of slicing.).

I don’t usually make New Year Resolutions. I already fail to drink, smoke, swear (much) or take drugs. Promiscuity is my only available vice and, to be honest, that’s not working out so well in a Catholic country. Strider has told me I’m a Straight Edge but Strider says a lot of things.

I’ve thought about this and decided that in order to make resolutions, one must first identify areas for improvement. I understand that weight is the traditional area for girls to aim for a reduction in and while I understand the importance of a healthy lifestyle, it’s quite cold and I need my fat for insulation. As long as I can climb the stairs without getting out of breath, it’s all good. If you think about it, being chunky is probably saving me several tons in carbon emissions each day. I should probably get some kind of medal.

Careful observations suggest it is also traditional to remove something enjoyable from one’s life. As I’m a crotchety miserable auld wench who enjoys nothing, this is clearly impossible to achieve. I’m not sure I understand what the point of it is either. There are many ways to demonstrate strength of character without depriving oneself; a jaunt to the supermarket with my Mammy, on a Friday during half term, for instance.

The third thing people tend to resolute is the reversal of a less than agreeable aspect of their character. Now, I am very clever and good looking and, being very clever and good looking, I know there are many deep seated flaws within my character. Some of them I already attempt to change and the ones I don’t are the ones I am comfortable with.
Self righteousness, for instance, has long been cited by Strider as my second least attractive quality. The first, it goes without saying, is my face. The thing is though, I’m not self righteous. I have aspects of self righteousness combined with a lack of sympathy for anybody in a situation less serious than gangrene of the head. If you have a problem, grand so, come on down, I’ll do what I can to help. If you don’t, then please stop moaning and get a grip because you are letting the side down.
I suppose I could stop making deeply evil, snide and horrible comments and show a little more tolerance towards the deeply annoying. When Cos, for instance, said she believed John Edward was a genuine medium and that he had passed scientific tests and was very highly thought of by other mediums, was it really necessary for me to reply “I believe Hitler is most highly thought of by some of the words top dictators”?

I suspect that this New Year Resolution malarkey is going to take some more thought.

In other news: I thrashed Strider at Scrabble. I’m usually keen to play a nice game of Monopoly but we’ve all avoided it this year. It’s probably for the best. A small plastic house lodged in the forehead can often offend.