I don't make New Year's Resolutions.
Now, partly this is because, by the time I've sobered up and raised my head from the pillow, unglued my eyes and managed to get at least mostly vertical, it is already February and people are asking me what I'm doing for Valentine's Day so it's far too late. And partly it's because I wouldn't know where to start.
Most people have just one core imperfection - you know, they need to do something with their hair, or to give more to charity or to clean the bath more than once a year. This makes Resoluting easy. Unfortunately, short of a major rebuild or a team of SWAT cleaners, there's not much to be done about my housekeeping. Ditto my cooking. One year I made a resolution to cook one home-made meal a day, to eschew the frozen section of Tesco's (do I mean eschew? Isn't that a sneeze? Oh well, carry on and hope they don't notice) and lovingly hand-craft pies, stews and fricassees for my family's gustatory delight.
Yeah. Won't be doing that again. People came by just to LAUGH and POINT. Can you imagine? Never mind, I got my own back. One flapjack and most of them will never dance the tarantella again..
So anyway. The nearest I have come this year to Resolution, is to promise that I shall be promiscuous. Now, for all those of you currently clutching your sides and phoning me up to tell me that a resolution is supposed to make you change your life, and not to enable you to have even more fun than you currently do, please let me finish my sentence.
I resolve to be promiscuous with my book marketing. To leave no blog unvisited, no 'comments' section un..err..commented - and all in the interests of getting Please Don't Stop the Music in those reader charts.
Just to refresh your memories.
And, to whet your considerable appetites (I saw you at the Boxing Day table, good grief, it was like some kind of automated device), I am blogging at http://nutpress.co.uk/ where, for the next few days, by the simple expedient of telling us your Darkest Secret, you may be in with a chance of winning a copy of the book!
So what are you waiting for? Get on over there and tell us all about that time you were sick over a minor member of Parliament! Oh, no, sorry, that was me.
Go! Fly, you fools!
And I shall sit here and think about how I may improve my life. Yeah, right, you all know I'm going to be finishing up the Bailey's Truffles, don't you?
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