It’s the start of a new year and with it, the sense that perhaps over the festive season, the world has somehow reset itself and we are bound to begin a new year with a fresh state of mind and an all new approach to life.
I’ve never really been a massive fan of new year. I can’t lie, I’m not a fan of a late night and would far rather be tucked up in bed with a good book and my electric blanket on warp drive. The whole ‘waiting around for midnight’ thing, with all the unrealistic expectations of what a new minute, hour, day, month, or year will bring, always seems a bit daft.
And then there’s the whole issue of having to turn over a new leaf. Just because the Romans dictated that our calendar would flip to a new number, this apparently means that we all have to see this as an opportunity to make changes, become better, try harder… And the thing with the whole ‘new leaf’ shenanigans is that actually, maybe I’m quite happy on the ‘old leaf’. Maybe, I don’t want to shake up my routine any further. I’m really feeling this year that COVID has had the monopoly on shaking things up, and frankly, I don’t want to play that game any more.
So if you’ve got a lovely list of resolutions to go to the gym more, or eat less, or learn a new language then that’s fabulous and I salute you. But me? I’m hunkering down and just getting on with it on my little old leaf. And that’s just fine too.
PS And in case you were wondering, this rather fetching pic was spied in our room at Oddfellows. So there you go.
Not exactly how I planned it 