NO EMPTY PROMISES FROM ME

I don’t make new year's resolutions which in itself could be construed as a new year's resolution I suppose.

I gave up many years ago when I realised I had no intention of keeping them. They always seemed to involve some health pledge and the banning of certain foods. The Del Boy promise that this time next year

I’d have abs you could grate cheese on and be driving a Bentley.

I’ll stick to what I know. I’ll continue eating cheese and watching YouTube videos showing me Bentleys. However, I like the idea of expecting a bit more from myself. I just don’t like the idea that it has to start in January. It’s the month that never ends. It’s the one month that seems to contain about 10 weeks and payday comes on week 11. I like to see January as the warm-up. It’s the prawn cocktail of months, the stretch before you go on the marathon. It’s the FFFuLa La La before the opera singer sings.

If I was given global power I’d kick the year off with February, a far better month. January seems a little bit too much. The rest of my family indulge in new year resolutions. I listen to claims of fitter, cleverer, hamster cage cleaners. Promises that sound so easy while eating chocolates on the sofa while watching someone make chocolates on the telly. I like to promise myself that I’ll say yes whenever I can even if it pushes me out of the comfort zone. I’ll switch between mature and extra mature Cheddar and stay resolutely committed to no new year's resolutions.