You know when you have one of those calm Christmases where everything goes like clockwork, you feel relaxed and ready for the New Year, you make achievable, ambitious resolutions and start to do them on January 1st cos you are SO READY?
So I was all geared up to start going to the gym in the New Year.
I’d asked for gym gear for Christmas and disappointingly got it.
But on the plus side I am going to be a VISION in lyra now instead of an embarrassment in my pyjamas on the treadmill.
The budget gym was working out to be not so budget as I’ve been once to a 20 minute class in four months so that cost me eight quid.
Or four quid a minute.
I think Beyonce gets out of bed for less.
2017 was going to be my year.
I’m getting married.
I’m going to finish my book.*
But firstly I’m going to get so fit that I’ll jog everywhere.
To pick the kids up.
To the kitchen.
I’m going to live in lycra.
So January day one. (Which is obviously 2nd Jan as everyone knows resolutions don’t actually start until the day after New Year’s Day.)
And I’ve got the mother of all sore throats. Like can’t-swallow-water sore.
Ah well. I’ll just catch up on Festive Corrie.
Day two and I wake up with a spider bite on my wrist.
A false widow spider.
A fucking spider bite.
Are you shitting me?
Who get’s bitten by a spider in January, whilst in bed?
I give it a scratch and it pops.
Fast forward three days and I’ve still got a throat like a bag of old razors and I’m sat in A and E with my infected bite.
The GP even looks a bit gipped out by it.
So. I haven’t exactly cracked the resolution thing yet, but when I say they start on day two, what it actually means is week two, right?
Happy New Year all.
Looking forward to sharing the next year with you.
*If I don’t finish my book, you have permission to trash my laptop and permanently lock me out of Facebook.