New Year's Eve

Although it's traditional to make New Year's Resolutions,  it's been a long time since I bothered. As you get older, you know certain things about yourself.  For instance, I know that however much I mean it, those promises (you know the ones. They involve eating less and moving more and generally Living Sensibly. Yawn) made when the clock strikes 12 on the last day of the year, while the bubbles are rising in my wine glass- well, those vows are only good for about 2 weeks.

I start off OK. I bet everyone does. For the first few days the smug feeling of self congratulation powers me along and my stomach is usually relieved after the annual Yuletide battering. But then the cold and miserable reality of January settles in. The Christmas chocolate starts to whisper from the cupboard. Mashed potato for dinner sounds increasingly alluring. An extra half hour in bed is infinitely more appealing than hauling my reluctant bum out of bed and onto the bike.

By Feb 1, it's all over.

So several years ago, I decided it's a waste of time and that I would henceforth spare myself the humiliation of failure.

But this year is different. This year I AM making a resolution and I'm pretty sure I'll be keeping it.

This is it: I've resolved to travel more.

It doesn't have to be a long trip (although Cuba, Zanzibar, Argentina- I lust after you). But until I reach such exotic destinations, every week I shall get on the bus or the train and go somewhere locally that I haven't visited in a while. I'll be taking a camera and reporting back here.

So you'll be seeing lots of South England and when I get adventurous (and rich), some far flung places too.

It's a win-win situation for everyone.

Unless, of course, you have ever carelessly, and with gay abandon, issued an invitation
'If ever you're in town, you must come and visit!',
while secretly thinking-
'Ha! She'll never get here!'
Well- if I have your address-
Be afraid.
Be very afraid!

And Happy New Year!