Over the last 48 hours, we’ve all read ACRES of poems, pithy thoughts and witticisms, resolutions, revolutions, advice about ablutions, diets, regimes and the rantings of Piers Morgan.
Just wear the bloody paper hat!
Hopefully you have managed to distil from this copious verbiage those philosophies and ideals which will carry you safely through this new year and out the other side.
Fuelled by Thorntons Continental and red wine, I thought I’d share some bon mots with you, honed from my odd 50 years (and some of those years have been extremely odd) so that you may gain some clarity about the swirling cloud of Facebook cats and celebrity idiocy that by now will be reaching toxic levels.
1. Don’t hang around with people you don’t like.
There are approximately 7 billion people on the planet. Surely you can find someone else to go for a drink at the weekend?
This includes those people who specialise in back-handed compliments or who can’t resist dragging up that thing you did in school which was hilarious in the 70’s but means absolutely nothing to anyone now – but them and you.
2. Try something different occasionally.
Obviously I’m thinking of gentle activities here like crochet or anything that doesn’t involve lifting. Or much movement.
Apparently it’s a fact that if you smile, your whole physiology changes and you feel better. Gritting your teeth is a short route to the dentist. Or in my case, the jaw clinic at our local hospital.
4. Tell people you love them.
Life’s too short and all that. I like to tell the husband this occasionally, not least for the look of shock he usually wears, swiftly followed by “what are you after?”.
5. Treat yourself.
For God’s sake, if you can afford that bag and you want it, buy it. Is it really worth 48 hours of arguing with yourself as to why you should / shouldn’t when you know you’ll buy it in the end anyway?
If you feel really guilty about making yourself happy, make a donation to your favourite charity to balance up your karma.
The rest? Guess what? You already know what to do.
The question is will you choose to do it?
Will you choose to exercise, eat right, not get bladdered every night, be a decent person?
Unless you have the moral compass of the Marquis de Sade you really don’t need ANYBODY to tell you what to do.
So my last piece of sterling advice (at least today) is simply this.
When the cracker of life is pulled and the novelty that falls out is either complete rubbish or in someone else’s half of the cracker, just put the bloody paper hat on and smile.
There’s always another year. Hopefully.