The fact that I am writing a post about New Year’s resolutions on the 5th rather than the 1st of January should tell you everything you need to know.
Like many people, I awoke last Thursday morning with a sore head, nursing a thousand promises I knew I could never keep. The first of these, of course, was to write more; the second to drink less. Already I have fallen foul of both of these simple directives (even if I could cite various mitigating factors in my defence).
Still, every cloud has a silver lining: though I have failed to keep to my resolutions, I have, nevertheless, had cause to think about why.
The reason for my failure, I think, is straightforward enough. Simply, I had unrealistic expectations of myself. After all, why make ten resolutions if you know you are only going to keep one?
Since I decided some time last week that it was OK to make a single resolution, things have become far easier.
My goal for 2015? To make better use of my time on the commute to work.
As I write, I am sitting on a crowded train.
Probably that means nothing to you, but to me it feels like the start of something new.