It’s been a week of change for a lot of us as we begin the new year with our new list of hopes and dreams.
In my office, however, nerves are beginning to fray.
While doing the mid-morning tea run, there’s a indiction of what my colleagues are looking to change in 2013.
Former smokers are drumming hard on their desks at the mention of elevenses, while others look a bit miserable as they politely refuse when the biscuit box is placed under their nose.
Elsewhere, my friends tell me how much money they’ve saved by calling time on Pinot Grigio o’clock, and I couldn’t find a parking space at the sports centre when I took wee Jack swimming this week.
After another splashing adventure, I bumped into a family friend wearing a bright green bikini that was, well, too small.
“I’ve cut out fags, booze, chocolates, crisps, gossiping and watching rubbish on TV,” she said a little breathlessly, “and I’m here at the pool most days.
“I’ve never felt better, Kate.”
“Is that right?” I said, a little nervous as Jack tugged at her bikini bottoms which were frankly under enough strain already.
“It’s easy,” she said, drying her face.
My mother always says that you can enjoy everything if you do it in moderation.
I agree and feel that depriving yourself completely of something you enjoy like a wee glass of wine or an odd catty comment at the office coffee machine is a bit extreme.
Perhaps someone who withdraws all so-called vices from their lives as they switch their calendar has not been doing things in moderation.
Maybe they feel a bit guilty about overdoing it in the past or on a regular basis.
Don’t get me wrong, I support anyone making an effort to better themselves, but we’re only human, and I doubt my bikini-clad friend’s hefty January resolves will last to Valentine’s Day.
Meanwhile, I fell at the first hurdle in my resolve to avoid fast food joints on the days I take my grandson.
It used to be a once a month thing, but lately, and particularly when my fridge was on the blink, we were there more often.
So after swimming that day, I planned to go home for a lovely, homemade lunch.
“Gran?” said Jack from his car seat. “How did the world start?”
“God,” I answered, “although some people think it began with a big bang.”
“A bang?,” said Jack. “How?”
Faced with the prospect of discussing creationism with a tot, I switched subjects.
“How’s mummy, Jack?” I chirped. “Remember she’s having the new baby soon,”
“Fine,” he said. “Gran, where do babies come from?”
“Okay,” I said, “Who wants a Happy Meal?”
New Year resolutions and young children don’t mix.
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