I'm a great one for resolutions and fresh starts. Not a new year or birthday can go past without me merrily making a list of all the ways I'm going to improve myself.
Obviously I never stick to a single one but it's fun thinking of all the ways you would make yourself a better person if only you could be bothered.
Lockdown is having much the same effect. I'm sure I'm not the only person who has dreamed up lots of ways they will change their life when we are released. Things we miss that we previously took for granted. Things we’ve taken up in lockdown that we have pledged to stop doing or continue doing once this is over. Random things we feel angrily deprived of that we probably would never have done but feel outraged that we can’t do because of lockdown. Weekly date nights, trips to the theatre, spontaneous weekends away... Who am I kidding?
So you can only imagine the impact that the combined force of lockdown and my birthday has had on all my list making and forward planning. Thank God the shops are shut else I’d have needlessly stocked up on new stationery and got a bold new haircut to boot.
(It is worth noting at this point that I have never, ever stuck to a resolution. I mean, who has? Oh, except I have flossed every day since October when I last went to the hygienist for my annual telling off. But that’s hardly going to change my life.)
So here's a nice list (I'm also obsessed with lists) of all the things I'm committing to over the next 12 months. Consider it a lovingly curated metaphorical stick with which I shall beat myself for the next year. I realise by publishing this list I have you lot to hold me to account, but I’d like you all to be kind, please, and never speak of this again.
1. Learning at least one useful new skill.
At the start of the year my friend Lou and I seriously talked about taking a class in barbering. (Is that the word? I don’t mean barbershop singing but cutting men’s hair.) Like me she has two boys so, partly as a means to save ourselves time and money but also (probably more so) an excuse to hang out without the kids once a week for as long as it took, we decided to investigate courses at the local college.
Sadly for us - and for Henry - this obviously never happened. So on Friday Andy and I took turns in hacking away at Henry’s head with a shiny new set of clippers and some decidedly blunt hairdressing scissors I found in the bathroom drawer. It was very much a case of the blind leading the blind, with some powerful looks exchanged over the top of his head, all of which said, silently, ‘Holy hell, this isn’t looking good’.
Andy seemed to think he was more qualified than me to have a go, presumably because he’s been on the receiving end of the clippers a few times, but that’s a bit like Prince Andrew thinking he can fly a plane because he’s been on one thousands of times.
In the end, with a bit of mussing and the occasional snipping of an errand strand we spot, Henry probably looks fractionally better for the haircut than he did before. We’re just grateful all the mirrors in the house are a bit too high for him.
2. Running a 10k
I’m doing reasonably well with my 100 workouts in 100 days challenge, and in six weeks have only missed half a dozen days. I’ve never been a mad one for running, preferring short, sharp, high intensity workouts, but the need to get out of the house alone has forced me out onto the road a few times of late. And, though I’m loath to admit it, I’m starting to kind of enjoy it.
Back in 2005 I ran the Windsor Half Marathon with some colleagues. I say ran, I sort of speed-walked it. I’d never run before - hell, I’d never exercised before - but some persuasive people at the Maidenhead Advertiser (a few of whom I know read this) convinced me to be part of a team. If by team you mean matching branded vests and a high five on the start line.
I did quite a bit of training, and my newish boyfriend at the time was a keen runner so I happily listened to all his advice, drinking in his wisdom and encouragement. (15 years on he is still just as encouraging when it comes to me trying to achieve the impossible, though I’m not falling for it as readily these days.)
But what I didn’t think to look into, and what took me by surprise on the day, was just how hilly that year’s course was. It was a far cry from the pavement pounding I’d done in and around my parents’ village - it was more like a muddy BMX track.
Needless to say after I’d vomited in the car park and lost two toenails I decided my running career was behind me.
But now, as the memories have faded to nothing more than ‘remember that time when’ stories, I think I’m ready to tackle another challenge. But I’m much older and a bit wiser so I’m being realistic. I’m significantly fitter now, and it’s half the distance than it was back then, so I reckon it’s doable.
3. Getting that first draft of a novel under my belt.
Yeah yeah, I know every man and his dog thinks they have a novel in them but I’m going to do it, ok? I write for a living so why not write something I enjoy rather than lining other people’s pockets with my persuasive prose? I don’t have any big ideas about it actually being published but as Andy so sweetly put it a few weeks back - ‘who cares if it’s shit, at least you’ll have done it’. You see, there he goes, being all encouraging again.
4. Channeling my inner wholesome parent
Whenever I imagined having kids I always saw us being outdoorsy, energetic folk, happily at one with nature, cycling, surfing, camping and generally being annoyingly smug.
As someone who had never cycled, surfed or camped before, I don’t know what sort of personality transplant I was expecting during labour, but weirdly that vision still prevails.
The kids are now little fiends on two wheels - Bella has well and truly nailed no stabilisers in lockdown - and they love a bit of camping. (Because they have soft bones and can sleep in a tent without being in agony for two days afterwards.) So far camping has only consisted of three hours sleeping in the Wendy House last week (they wanted to stay all night but it was freezing so we let them stay till we went to bed), but I know they’d absolutely love it.
And I think if I got organised, I would too. I would have to insist on a campsite with hot showers and proper toilets, but I think that’s pretty standard these days from what I hear.
Thinking about it I suppose this resolution is no bad thing. With three kids and a staggering recession looming maybe holidays on the south coast of England are the future anyway.
***
And because my lovely husband is always accusing me of over-committing and generally taking on too much, here is a list of all the things I'm not going to do over the next 12 months.
1. Join the PTA
As tempting as it is (I refer you to my Brown Owl nickname) I do not have time for that can of worms.
2. Get the puppy the kids are desperate for
It was either a third baby or a dog, and we all know how that turned out, but we are all still hankering after four-legged friend. However, I must wait. I cannot be toilet training two living beings simultaneously. I cannot swap being woken at 3am by a baby for being woken on the hour every hour by a needy puppy. I cannot have a crawling baby and a puppy that is liable to poo on the carpet. And, crucially, I must save the puppy acquisition for the next time I get broody, else who knows where that might lead.
3. Have another baby.
See above.
4. Paint the back wall of the house
The back of the house has needed a second coat of paint for approximately four years, and if a three month lockdown can't prompt us to do it, I'm not going to do it over 12 months once life is back to normal. Sorry Dad.
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