At the beginning of 2009, I made just one resolution: no sex with Speckled Lad. In true Blonde fashion, I entirely neglected to stick to it. In the end, it turned out that the only person I had sex with in 2009 was Speckled Lad. Whether it was Fate laughing in my face, or my libido taking matters into its own hands (there’s an image) having realised that if there were no Speckled Sex, there’d be no sex at all, I don’t know. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a triumph of my resolve, and so this year, I’m going to make a resolution I have half a chance to sticking to.
I had considered making another go of the ‘no sex with Speckled’ thing, but I’ve realised it’s not desperately practical. There’s some kind of something that renders me incapable of resisting the Lad. Pathetic, but there it is. Making a resolution that’s doomed to fail from the outset is just daft, and I don’t have the wherewithal to deal with the inevitable guilt that ensues from telling Best Mate of my plan and then hearing her total lack of surprise when I have to confess to the subsequent indiscretion. In short, there’s no plan not to sleep with him this year.
I toyed briefly with the idea of making myself go to the gym more, but frankly that’s not a resolution: it’s a necessity. If my bottom gets any larger, I shall need to take out a separate ticket for it on the train in the morning and seating is limited as it is.
There’s the saving money resolution; the eating better; the watching less crap telly. But spending; late night suppers of waffles (see? Told you about the bottom) and Come Dine... are things about my life that I enjoy.
Drinking less didn’t even merit consideration.
I’ve already set up a direct debit for this year’s charity, and there’s a large list of decent novels on my to-read list. I’d clean more, but that’s what I pay someone else to do. And there’s absolutely no point making resolutions about my love life so I shan’t.
So I’ve come to the conclusion that, maybe, instead of doing something that I’ve dreamt up myself, I’ll do something that other people have been badgering me to do: blog more.
Flatteringly, several people have nudged me recently to do so, via email and tweet. On mentioning this to Best Mate, I had a text: well, they’re right. You’ve not blogged in weeks.
And so I resolve that I shall blog more this year. Quite what about, I have no idea, and it’s entirely possible that you’ll all regret my decision once I’m posting weekly on Colin’s antics, like his recent discovery that if he leaps off the kitchen table at the right moment, he can reach the middle shelf inside the fridge. You’ve been warned.
Forty days: Pt 12 (the half-term shuffle)
13 hours ago