Spectator: Happy New Year

Yes, it’s that time of year again. The time when we chalk up a long list of resolutions, all the stuff that we absolutely must (or must not) do in the spanking New Year that stretches out before us. Odds are, the list will be abandoned by the time February rolls around, but for what it’s worth, here’s my own list of New Year resolutions, in no particular order of importance.

De-cluttering my lifeThis starts from the very basics. The closets bursting with clothes that I will never wear (ie fit into) again. The shelves groaning under books that I barely got through the first time and will never re-read. The CDs I never listen to now that all the tracks have been downloaded on to my iPod. The magazines that lie piled up in a corner (and are still untouched after several months). The shoes that have been retired from active duty now that my back (and increasingly, my knees) has given up on me. The solitary bottle of barbeque sauce that lies forlorn and ignored on the back shelf of my larder. The ficus plant that stubbornly refuses to flourish on my balcony. All junk must go.Trimming my friends listOver the years, we all end up adding friends to our extended circle. There are those we bump into at parties; those we discover through social media; those we meet in the new neighbourhood we move into; those we acquire by marriage; and those that acquire us. But as social research indicates, it is really not possible to keep up with more than a 100-odd people (especially if some of them are very odd indeed). So, maybe this is as good a time as any to get rid of all those who add nothing to my life; those who are unremittingly negative; those who take particular pride in running everyone else down; and those who are legends in their own lunchtime. (FYI, if you need to ask, "Don’t you know I’m famous?" you’re probably not.)

Making time for those who matterOnce I’ve got rid of the flotsam and jetsam of my world, it will be that much easier to work on my next resolution: spending time with those people who really matter to me. Long conversations on Skype with old school friends I haven’t seen in years. Making time for a cousin who has flown into town for a couple of days. Touching base with the extended family. Long, lazy lunches with my girl gang. Bonding over boozy dinners with my favourite Smug Marrieds. Ah well, you get the picture.

Swearing off all dietsYes, yes, I know you’ve got this absolutely fantabulous diet. And yes, I can see that you have lost oodles of weight on it. But you know what? I don’t want to hear about it. Yes, you got that right. I. Don’t. Want. To. Hear. About. It. I don’t want to know how carbs mustn’t be mixed with proteins. I don’t want to be lectured about how I need to finish dinner by 7pm at the latest. And I certainly have no interest in the glycemic index of various food items. So, be a dear, and shut up about your diet already. (Because, in any case, I can’t hear you above the siren call of that chocolate fondant.)

Rationing my time on the InternetSadly, my search for a Net connection that automatically times out when it senses I am wasting time has come to naught. So, I guess I will have to do this the old-fashioned way: by exercising some self-control. That means not spending more than an hour on the Net every day, no matter how tempting the cyber trail that leads me away from the topic I type into the Google search box. And, of course, resisting the temptation to refresh my Twitter timeline every half hour.

Finishing my bookIf I can stick to the resolution listed above, this one will be so much easier to fulfill. If I could just check which Tube line went from Westbourne Grove to Camden Town; read an article on the Lashkar-e-Taiba network in Bradford; research the new Beretta models on the market; and get right back to my writing, I would have finished my first draft by now. Instead, I go flying off on a tangent, clicking link after link until I’ve clean forgotten what I was searching for. Well, no more procrastination, starting right now. It’s full steam ahead with the writing.

From HT Brunch, January 6