1) Shake things up a bit. Just occasionally ditch the tried and tested, bin the predictable and take myself on a mini-adventure. It’s dead easy to become entrenched in the familiar. You know what you like. You like what you know and before you realise it you’ve morphed into that excruciatingly dull figure – a creature of habit. I’m not advocating banishing the partner, flogging the house and setting off in a caravan to become a tarot card reader, but stepping off the usual route and plunging into the unknown before I become too rigidly entrenched to dare to experiment is a must.

2) Rev up the friends roster. Sure, I’ve acquired lifelong chums along the way and I love them hugely, but the time to branch out socially is now. I know it’s not easy to make new pals. People seem to scuttle off with their Other Halves and hang out within their exclusive circles, leaving no room for infiltrators. Yet, we’re all also aware that loneliness is an epidemic and as bad for our health as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. So I’m going to place the cultivating of potential companions firmly on the agenda. The oldies are the goodies, but, who knows, a few newbies could, as the old ad. used to say: ‘bring the freshness back.’

3) Last year’s NYR was to change my sagging and decrepit 20 year old bed. I waited till December 21st to get round to it, but, Lord above, the replacement is the veritable incarnation of earthly bliss. It is plump and commodious, springy and supportive in all the right places, comes complete with a pale pink velvet headboard which is a tonic to behold and almost guarantees refreshing slumber. What’s my resolution? Not to wait so damn long to fulfil my resolutions. Stop prevaricating and get on with it, especially when the net effect will spread a sizeable dollop of happiness.

4) Don’t allow time with the grand-children to be swamped with the ordinary. There are pizzas to be sliced, toys to be tidied away, teeth to be cleaned and a million other bog-standard jobs to be done. Time with grand-babies is far too precious to be squandered on boring old chores. Remember to make memories, keep life epic and factor in special moments that can be filed away in their memory banks and make a star appearance in yours. Personal favourites include dancing with a banana under each arm. Hunting for the moon by torchlight and slicing a salami lengthwise instead of into circles.

5) I say this every year, but make friends with a charity and check out ways in which I might be of use. Find out what they need and select the contribution that suits me. It’s no use promising to cook lunches if you’re a reluctant chef. Research, investigate, work out where you are a comfortable fit and watch the feel-good factor rise.

6) Prepare a card with my thoughts on Brexit inscribed upon it. Reach into my pocket and produce one whenever the conversation veers Brexit-wards. Save energy and escape heated arguments. Unless, of course, I’m in the mood for right old humdinger. In which case, leave card in pocket and hold forth.

7) Take holidays in days rather than weeks. We all know a long weekend off is salve to the soul. We all know a whole week in any location however delightful can feel like a life sentence and an entire fortnight of enforced idleness can turn out to be more penance than pleasure. In 2018 I hope to slope away somewhere nourishing to the constitution for lots of odd days, stealing moments of happiness not booking out formal swathes of time labelled ‘must have fun if it kills me’.

8) Stop popping painkillers. I’m allergic to codeine so I don’t get any more exciting than generic Paracetamol or Ibroprufen but I’ve noticed myself reaching for them at the first vague warning sign that a headache might be threatening to take hold. I want to practise a little fortitude, curb the urge to swallow a couple of pills at the first twinge and give myself the chance to ride out pain and see how long it lasts and what happens at the other end.

9) Start a culinary revolution and bother to learn a brand spanking new signature dish. I’ve been serving up the same old staples for thirty-two years. If it isn’t my sticky lamb chops, it’s my shepherd’s pie or roast chicken. I’m boring myself silly. Profound though my aversion to cookery books and chaining myself to the chopping board may be, the moment has arrived to expand my embarrassingly limited repertoire.

10) Grow crops. I’m a flower not a vegetable gardener. My dahlias are a delight , my fuchsias are fantastical and my roses, when not attacked by all manner of pestilential insect-life are positively splendid. 2018 is the year to cherish the fragrant and ornamental while making space in my heart and herbaceous border for the edible. I’ve set my heart on home-grown courgettes and beetroot. Whether I have the skill to nurture veggies from seed to table remains to be seen.

11) Wean myself off bingewatching TV shows. Great chunks of life have been subsumed into consuming entire programmes, virtually at one sitting. ‘The Crown’ series 1 and 2, ‘Madam Secretary’, ‘Power’, ‘Chesapeake Shores’ devoured whole weekends. I don’t want to watch less telly. I just want to exercise a touch of moderation and ration myself to two shows at one sitting – no more. That way the pleasure is prolonged and hours magically become available for resolutions one through to 10.

12) Stay off line. You know by now Gentle Reader that I’ve never Googled, sent or received and email or bought an item on line. I can’t. I have a £25 ancient Nokia and no computer, ipad or any other equipment. The height of my acquaintance with technology is the sending of a text message. Each year the pressure to succumb to a smartphone and spend my days scrolling through pictures of other people’s croissants, dogs balancing a ball on their noses and posts about the weather is stronger. I’m told I can’t be got hold of. I’m rebuked for paying bills with a cheque, envelope and stamp. I’m assured that I’m behind the times, outside the swim and will never survive unless I join the 21st century. I still don’t fancy it. I don’t warm to being threatened. I’m happy just as I am and intend to remain that way.

There you have it: a list of hopes and dreams. I know I won’t succeed in sticking to my guns, attaining all I set out to or even embarking on some of my more ambitious resolutions, but I humbly set them before you. Feel free to adopt any or none of them. I’m sure Gentle Reader you have plenty of good intentions of your own. May you have all the luck in the world reaching for the stars.

All my love, VANESSA XXX