Tuesday, 6 January 2015


First of all...20 what now? 2015? Aren't we supposed to be cruising to the shops on hoverboards by now, and communicating telepathically? What happened to batwing jackets and New Romantics? That's what I want to know.

I've been reading many blogposts over the last week brazenly crowing, meekly suggesting or straddling a fence whilst deliberating over resolutions and decisions for the coming 365 days. And who am I to spoil a party?

I have always been a firm believer in New Year's Resolutions. I think Fantastico Dad made me and BrillSis construct a list every year which was duly forgotten crumpled up by Jan 3rd; but I get what he was doing now - it is the perfect time for reflecting on the past year and making sure we don't make the same daft mistakes in the next one. Although since becoming a teacher, I am forced to reflect, wince and dust myself down every July-September as I wave goodbye to a shoal of students embarking on their adulthood only to be greeted by a tidal wave of newbies.

To be honest I am a maker of lists; never mind New Year, every Monday I am constructing a ladder length list of things I must achieve to show the world what a brilliant teacher, mother, friend, wife, writer I am. Needless to say...lists are not completed, achievements are not achieved, the world remains none the wiser.

So this year I am making one. That's right - I can't even complete the 5 things part of this writing prompt. Lookit as  a list compiler, to just whittle my to-dos down to one is a momentous achievement in itself.

I don't know how I will achieve my one resolution / thing I want to see happen this year. As someone who has a tendency to crawl into big, dark holes followed by big,black dogs, as someone who never, ever sees the good in me that others see, as someone who will avoid the new because of the crippling fear of failures of old, this is going to be a toughie.

This year I want to be happy. Happy being me.

Wish me luck.