If you’ve managed to get to today and are still sticking to your resolutions, you’re doing better than most of us.
And if you can make it past this Friday, chances are you’ll stick it out.
A survey has revealed that Friday, January 24, is when most people are likely to give up their New Year promises, or give in depending on what your vice is.
Dubbed Fail Friday, it’s the time when most people’s resolve disappears and we go back to our old ways.
I’m not doing too badly.
My determination to get fitter hasn’t quite paid off.
So far this year I’ve managed two yoga classes and two gym sessions, which is two gym sessions more than I actually fancied going to, so I must have some willpower.
If only I could unearth more of it. The number of times I’m actually going, it’s not exactly great value for money, and hardly doing much for my waistband, but I am taking solace that I am heading in the right direction.
Sadly, by the time I arrive home on a wet Monday evening, the lure of a hot bath and sitting in front of the television in my pyjamas for soap-tastic night is too much of a draw so I can’t ever see me being a five-times a weeker.
The healthier eating is faring about the same. I (reluctantly) opted out of office chip lunches two weeks in a row, but did cave in for the bacon buttie breakfast.
On a trip to the supermarket last Wednesday, I scooped up bags of reduced price parsnips and made pots of soup, which I was enjoying tucking into until a colleague pointed out it was so thick, you could slice it.
I’m not sure quite what that says about my cooking abilities, but in my defence a) it wasn’t that bad and b) when exactly does a soup become a puree?
I’m still ploughing my way through Christmas chocolates, though, dear reader, so I haven’t completely changed.
After a hectic few weeks, hubby and I found ourselves with a few days off last weekend.
So we grabbed ourselves a last-minute deal at a lovely hotel, packed our bags and headed off.
The place we’d picked was amazing, a beautiful old manor house with a great restaurant and friendly staff.
I’d have been quite happy to stay there all day, but instead we took advantage of a sudden burst of sunshine, donned our walking gear and headed out.
Which was fine, until 20 minutes later when we found ourselves in increasingly deeper mud.
We battled on, getting dirtier with ever step and by the time we got back to the posh hotel two hours later, we looked like we’d been roughing it for days.
We dumped our boots in the car and crept to our room to clean up.
Perhaps it wasn’t quite the romantic weekend I’d imagined but, looking back, it was perfect and almost a mini re-run of our honeymoon in the Lake District.
I can’t quite work out how the girl from Lordswood housing estate grew up to love trudging through the countryside so much.