How was it for you?

So, that's it for another year. The tinsel is tired, the compost overflowing with uneaten sprouts, the balloons popped.

I hope you all enjoyed the festival you needed. If eating, drinking and being merry is your thing - then I hope you are sated. If settling in a corner by the fire in glorious silence, knowing the shops are closed and the phone won't ring, is what floats your boat - then I hope no doorbells rang for you.

Me - I had the best of both worlds. On some days my walls echoes with the laughter of grandchildren (I shouldn't be surprised that people so small can make so much noise); and on others I sat with a book and let the hours swim by.

And so to 2014. The shiver of excitement that comes with a New Year. The days will get longer (promise); the birds will sing again; the snowdrops will bloom and we'll look for catkins.

Some of you will make resolutions - not me. I can't see the point of setting myself up to fail. I can do that easily enough without the excuse of the date. If you're promising yourselves a slimmer, fitter body by the time the clocks go forward - the very best of luck.

For it is a time of year for looking forward - and as you know, I have travels to look forward to. But before I head for the airport I shall think, for a while, about those who cannot - for whatever reason - share my excitement. It can be a painful time of year - for many reasons, and I won't speculate about yours. For those of you weeping into your cocoa, I hope that 2014 takes the shape you need it to. That the lonely will find comfort, that the needy will find succour, and the beleaguered will find peace.

I raise a glass to you all.

ps. I've had a rather wonderful start to the year - I submitted Over the Hill to a competition so long ago I'd almost forgotten, and then this happened: click here! So I might eat cake as I raise my glass to you!

New Year in Bangkok

You're expecting fireworks? So was I. I even asked in the travel agent's where was the best place to see them. Go to the bridge, she said - and marked the relevant bridge on my map.

So we - Anthea (from New Zealand, also travelling alone) and I headed for the bridge, diverted only briefly towards a park where thousands were watching what we were told was a Buddhist ceremony and, at that point, sounding like a modern Opera. We left them to their devotions. It was New Year - we wanted fireworks.

But now the tide of the crowd worked against us. We stopped to ask - go back to the park, the young man said. The only way to see fireworks from the bridge is to climb the gantry. Which, even after a couple of New Year beers, seemed like a bad idea. Besides, the park is a huge open space - we'd see fireworks from there.

By the time we returned the opera was over, replaced by chanting - the hypnotic Buddhist chanting that can only be achieved by magical breathing. Thousands of the faithful were sitting on the grass, hands held before them in devotion, as the ebb and flow of singing wafted round them. We edged between them and found a place to sit. The stage - even the big screens - were too far away to see much. But nobody minded - we all sat, in delicious contemplation - while the chanting went on, and on, and on. The grumble of traffic, the smell of diesel and street food - it all fell away.

And in the sky - Chinese lanterns rose into the night sky from all corners of the city. They have a Buddhist significance that is lost on me - but they dotted the darkness with a thousand pinpricks of light at they sailed off towards the stars.

A giant clock on the screen ticked round towards midnight. And still the monks chanted, and the devoted sat in silence with their prayers. The seconds passed, 58, 59, 00 - and it was 2013 and there may have been a brief collective sigh. The chanting continued and still we sat, in glorious tranquility, the flashes of fireworks in the distance making no impact on the silent crowd nor chanting monks.

Slowly people began to shuffle, to stand, and to drift away. We headed back into the streets of the city, met with thumping music from cafes, people lighting fireworks in the street, drunken revellers kissing whoever happened to be near. I am sure they enjoyed their evening. But my silent New Year - I don't suppose I'll ever know another like it.

Sawasdee pii mai ka. Happy New Year.

On not making Resolutions.

So, how was Christmas for you?

The decorations will be down in a few days. The walls will look bare - though pine needles crunching in the carpet are a reminder of the jollities that have passed - the glee of children at four in the morning; the bleary eyes of parents reaching for the wine by eleven (that's not too early, surely?). The game playing. The joy of connecting with those we love, and the relief of silence when they leave.

Done for another year.

Now - into the New Year. I've dipped into some other blogs - and found so many that overflow with Resolutions.

Don't get me wrong - I envy anyone who can make Resolutions and find that they propel them into the New Year with a sense of purpose. That they find tackling a list of worthy behaviours is a means to serious change.

But this is why I shall not make Resolutions.

Somehow I am unable to make Resolutions that I can actually keep. For instance, why should I forego the nightly glass of wine - any Resolution that suggest I give that up I can keep for, let me see, all of twelve hours. Why would give up the glass of wine, unless a doctor insists it's doing me actual harm? It gives me pleasure. It reminds my body that it's evening.

And then - I must get fitter. Go walking every day - my exercise of choice. Should I go to the gym? Really? Have you been to a gym lately - and seen many older women trying to work out the rowing machine? I could, of course, swim. I have a pool within talking distance. But I hate that 'getting in' moment - the toes, and calves, and knees, I can manage them. It's the gasp of cold as the water hits my bits that puts me off. Please don't suggest golf. Unless it's the miniature kind with little hills and a windmill and I can play with children. So - I should walk every day; and I live in beautiful Wiltshire, so I can't complain that there is nowhere to go. And I walk on some days. But not when the wind is howling, or the rain pelting down, or the paths are icy, or the clouds in the west are full of snow. And this is January, for goodness sake. Any Resolution to walk every day will be out the window by the 2nd.

Writing Resolutions? I write because I love it, not because of some Resolution that tells me I should write more. Reading - ditto. I should submit more work? - Why? I know the edict - if you don't submit, then you can never be published. But I shall continue to submit work that I feel is good enough, and let the rest of it languish in the 'could do better' file.

So, if there are no Resolutions - I cannot fail. There is no point in setting myself up to fail.

Instead, I shall continue to devote myself to the pursuit of pleasure. I shall spend time with friends and family, play with my grandchildren. I shall write because I can think of nothing else that satisfies me in the same way. I shall walk the Wiltshire Downs when the weather is kind, and curl up by my fire when it isn't. I shall drink wine in the evenings and read in bed in the mornings. I shall travel when I can.

Hardly hedonistic. And you? Do you make Resolutions, or leave that to others and sink back into familiarity, as I do?