Every year I am asked to share my New Year’s resolutions. My answer invariably runs “My resolutions are the same as they are every year – to lose two stone and spend more time in the kitchen doing actual home cooking.”
Every January, a new pair of hideously coloured (but deeply discounted) running shoes are purchased in the sales, before the local supermarket is hit for dozens of new ingredients.
I love this time of year. No matter the widespread grumbling, it’s the sense of renewal, of hope and of potentiality that I find affirming”
By every December, the needle of the bathroom scales has returned stubbornly to place and my supermarket trips are little more than grabbing some cellophaned tin trays on the way home that can be whacked in the oven for 35 minutes while I finish off emails or read the next day’s briefings. I recognise the two results are not unrelated.