Happy New Year, one and all.
After a Christmas spent eating everything not bolted down – do people still get gout? – I’m ready to roll off the sofa and commence the new year
looking like a before picture for Weight Watchers with a contented tummy and good cheer.
What of Christmas?
Among the many presents beneath our tree on Christmas morning – I must have been a good girl last year, or simply better at covering my tracks – there sat a box from Smythson. Inside? Navy leather and paper, a beautiful diary.
With the year yet to be written, I’ve begun to tattoo the pages with plans and fun things to do – along with the more regular, ‘Collect dry cleaning’, ‘Buy milk’ and, every six weeks, ‘Get muff waxed’.
There are resolutions, too:
1. Snog/Shag Spencer from Made in Chelsea. Let’s start easy. Oh, come on, are you telling me Spencer isn’t easy?
2. Buy a Vespa.
3. Often, it seems like every person and every opportunity will gladly say “No” to me – yet I, a veteran people pleaser, have not found a way to use the word without anxiety or guilt. This will sound the bullshit of middle-shelf therapy but, in finally befriending “No”, I hope to assert and better protect my needs.
4. Wear my new Chinti and Parker star sweater to stave away the January Blues.
5. Think less, do more. Except on this blog.
The snooze button will be hit on these resolutions by early February but, until then, Mr Matthews should consider himself…
Laid in Chelsea.*