A new year just begun......

And so it's that time of year again: time to take stock, stand back, hunker down, batten down the hatches, step away from the fridge and keep your hands where you can see them....not up to your elbows in cold roast potatoes, an unfinished Stilton or the Quality Street tin....the purple ones have long gone anyway. All over this cold and soggy land the turkey-stuffed, wine-soaked, cake-crumbed masses are heaving themselves along to their nearest pilates class, yoga centre, thai-chi, kick-boxing, aerobic, weightlifting, flab slaying temple of muscular strain, ache and pain, in a vain attempt to clean up their act, get fit, slim down and tone up because this is going to be the year: the year when they lose that 10 pounds, give up smoking and stop lying on the sofa in crusty make-up and jim-jams sticky with the honey drips of morning toast, crumpled and coffee-stained, watching last night's telly on SkyPlus.

No, this will be the year of the doer. Actions will prove the naysayers wrong. This year will be another year. A different year.......until about January 22nd. At which point the stark realisation that we haven't even started February yet will kick in. The sky will turn the colour of sour milk and the damp, cold weather will seep beneath the tightest door and battened window; it will be too cold to go to pilates/yoga/kick-boxing, the meditation class will pass un-thought of and the salad will turn to slime, rotting odorously. The tooth defying toffees in the bottom of the chocolate box will get eaten while you wonder what you can eat...... and the thought of another day of detox tea in lieu of a robust red will gnaw away at your resolve and finally........ the game is up.

Personally I've given up giving up, better to embrace new things and add to life rather than take away from it.....especially at this late stage. Besides, I was given a bottle of homemade sloe vodka, the rose blush of which goes very well with the baby-pink, cashmere socks I also received from Santa ........ I hope the pair will see me through the northern months.

Top tip: take yourself off to Africa, read Out Of Shadows by Jason Wallace, winner of Costa's children's book of the year but a brilliant read at any age, oh yes and he's my cousin...... www.outofshadows.co.uk

Zen and the Art of body Maintenance

My body is not working quite the way it used to, subtle changes have been occurring over the last decade..... or two. Age creeps up on one slowly and not just from behind, unfortunately, there are things that have gone south for the winter that are never coming back. Plus, there's the softening of the jaw-line, a sagging of the elbow, the creeks and groans that accompany most movement and which make one sound like a Spanish galleon about to set sail every time one tries to leave the sofa. So, with the on set of winter and the long, drawn out evenings with nowhere to go but the kitchen for a fatal forage in the fridge, I have become increasingly concerned about health and safety on the body front. It's all about maintenance now. Like an old car, you need to tinker constantly with what you've got because if something falls off you're in big trouble, they don't make body parts like these anymore. And so, I've gone back to yoga. This summer I packed the sarong and headed to Ibiza, not to dance in the foam, but to do the downward dog with a back-drop of Benares beach and the rock of good vibes, under the instruction of the whippet-thin 53 year old, Kahti, which was quite brilliant and inspired me to want to do more.

 

Then, when I got back to the smoke, full of bliss, I bumped into a delightful woman of 68 who I used to see at a class I went to 20 odd years ago (note: the universe will provide....) We talked of tans and yoga and she said about half a dozen from the old class were still standing on their heads, at the teachers house, and I should come along. So I did. Our teacher, The Zen mother, is now 70 and looks amazing, the others range from 53 to 86 and so I am, as they like to call me, still the 'baby of the class', which suits me absolutely fine.........I thought it would be fairly low key with quite a lot of relaxation, but no, it's really hard and right now my bum may look smaller in this, but it hurts. They're hilarious and inspiring in equal measures and have been doing their weekly class together for over 30 years, swapping funny stories and tales of their children and grand-children between postures. They really are quite brilliant, and bendy, and I want some of that.

So, a feeling of well being is hovering about me which, on a day as dull as today, is just what you need. I really can't see myself sitting out my dotage on this damp island, not when there is much better weather to be had elsewhere. My son's father is currently residing in Barcelona where apparently, it's really hot. Living somewhere 'really hot' seems like a jolly good idea right now and if it wasn't for the fact that The Son, who has finally returned to higher education (hurrah!) is living with me, then I might go somewhere really hot too. But for now, Pranayama anybody?? 

Top tip: Waitrose Baby Bottom Butter makes a brilliant night cream when used a couple of times a week.