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!

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?