New Year Resolutions

I don’t know if there’s a way of measuring if one's had a good Christmas or not, but if you’re going on the size of your solid in the toilet the next morning then I had a very merry one indeed!

Despite being considerably lighter now than I was at 8am, I must have still gained a stone or two over the past week. Gluttony has been my deadliest of sins and yesterday was my descent into hell. After a big fry up and champagne for breakfast, a steady stream of mince pies, chocolate coins and stocking treats were put away until 3 o’clock, when the roast turkey was brought forth in all its glory.

A big chunk of this, along with all the trimmings and Christmas pud was wolfed down, and topped off afterwards with fancy chocolates, savoury nuts and mulled wine until about 10. At which point I began to feel a little queasy and decided, like a veteran gladiator, to quit while I was ahead and retire to bed.

The only problem with Christmas, aside from the sick tummy, is the leftovers of the next day - stacks of dirty plates, streams of discarded wrapping paper and a crushing sense of emptiness. In other words, rubbish and post-Christmas blues. Only another 364 days till the next one I guess.

However, before one becomes too despondent there’s always New Year’s Eve to cheer things up. Although I'm not normally a fan of this end of year blow out (being generally averse to all organised fun) my plans this year are shaping up quite nicely. I’ve been lucky enough to be invited by the Princess to a house party at her friend’s place, and to make things sweeter a quick glance at the Facebook guest list reveals the cretin that is Jedward is unlikely to attend. Fantastic!

Having said that, I’m keen not to get ahead of myself and expect the Princess to simply fall into my arms. My track record of NYE is not a glorious one – last year, for example, I saw in 2014 with my head in a sick bucket, a victim of beer and gin. When I was younger I routinely fell asleep before the big moment. As a result I'm determined not to muck up this time, especially when my chances with the Princess are at stake. There’s nothing more tragic than being the one who gets drunk too early.

As with Christmas, the downside to New Year’s is the morning after. In this case however, there really is nothing to look forward to. Nothing but the cold months of January and February stretching interminably into the distance. No wonder there’s a sharp jump in divorce and suicide rates at this time of year.

This is where New Year resolutions come in. By looking at the first of Jan as an opportunity for renewal, a chance to discard bad habits and take up good ones, then desperation can turn into inspiration.

But before I sound too much like a life coach, I readily admit that my own history of New Year resolutions reads like a guide on how not to do them. There are several reasons for this, among them a lack of willpower, overambitious targets and being hungover and irrational when making them. Last year was a case in point, when in the depths of my headache and sick bucket shame, I pledged to give up alcohol till I was 18, take up long distance running and also learn Chinese. Respectively, these resolutions lasted about one month, two and a half miles and five or so symbols before the last bit of hope in me died.

Indeed, approaching New Year resolutions in such a faulty manner can do more harm than good, leaving you with nothing but a strong sense of guilt. Having realised this now, I have resolved to maximise my chances of success this year by coming up with a draft of proposals. From these I shall pick three sensible and necessary ones, but only in a rational, sober state of mind. Below are some examples:

Limit my Tudor Stores visits to once a week
Call my friends out on their clichéd opinions on football
Become house captain (not entirely within my power)
Stop Runty becoming house captain (entirely within my power)
Sample restaurants in Windsor other than McDonalds
Do some writing for one of the school magazines
Improve the 20:1 male-female ratio of contacts in my phone
Apply to run one of the societies next year
Stop being such a massive legend – harharhar!
Pick a niche musical genre and use it to impress those around me
Get with more girls and/or get a girlfriend (preferably the Princess)
Become a computer whizz and hack the school system à la North Korea
Buff up in the school gym

Looking back at these I'm struck by how deficient my life is. There needs to be some change, quickly. If you don't recognise me next year then you'll know. Let 2015 be the year of my reinvention!

Dear Tony...

I’m not sure what I’m getting for Christmas this year. It could be a new phone. It could be a new laptop. It could be a new something else. Either way, I’m sure I'll be happy with it.

The thing is, I’m not really a materialistic person. Sure, new trainers are better than old ones, and I’d rather be seen with an i-phone 6 than an ancient Nokia, but when it comes to saving up for these things I’m more inclined to spend my money on immediate pleasures, like food and drink.

As a result you might think me underwhelmed by Christmas and the concept of receiving lots of lovely presents. However, there’s more to this time of year than getting a new watch or a fancy suit. It’s about giving gifts as well, it’s about the Nativity story, it’s about being generous to those in need and about families coming together to celebrate each other. If you’re now reaching for the sick bucket then I apologise, but I hope you agree it’s true!

I’ve been thinking about what Christmas would be like if for some reason everyone were stuck at school. As unappealing as that idea sounds, especially if you’re curled up right now on a deluxe sofa with mulled wine in hand, it might actually be good fun. Think about it – Christmas spent with your mates rather than with Aunt Gertrude, who you are forced to make agonising small talk with and who glares at you every time you reach for the Quality Street.

In all honesty, it’s not that fanciful an idea. If climate change goes berserk anytime soon as we’re told it might, then who’s to say a freak blizzard won't snow us in after term ends?

Although us boys might relish the idea of all-day snowball fights, the housemasters would it. Apart from not getting their holidays as promised, some boys in the house would soon get very bored, and with no divs to attend or EWs to complete they would turn to that easiest relief from tedium - breaking the rules.

Smoking and drinking in the corridors would become commonplace, and at night gangs would form and prowl the house looking for rooms to ransack. The usual mood of mild deference would make way for an irrepressible anarchy.

The most urgent problem I foresee however is the following - where would all the presents come from? Presuming the blizzard has kept Santa’s sleighs grounded and all other mail routes are cut off, then everyone’s two main benefactors – the rents and St Nick – would be unable to deliver their goodies.

One way of getting round this would be to organise an inter-house Secret Santa. Yet, as much as I would love to give Runty a One Direction poster as his main Christmas present, I’m not sure getting back some smelly socks or tampons in return would be quite as enjoyable.

The only solution therefore would be to approach Tony Little, illustrious headmaster of the school, and solicit him to dip his paw into one of the numerous funds (rowing or music would be good choices) and withdraw enough cash to give us all a merry Christmas.

No doubt everyone would be clamouring for the latest smartphone or tablet, but as someone who isn’t turned on by those things my Christmas wish-list would be rather different. Instead of asking for possessions, I would request certain favours. If we had we been snowed in this Christmas for example, my letter would look something like this:

Dear Tony,

Thank for being such a fabulous headmaster. I really like your moustache. If I was a girl I’d probably have a crush on you. I’d really appreciate it if you could do the following for me this Christmas:

• Make me house captain
• Give me a cheeky smile as you're leaving chapel somtime
• Praise me in assembly for being a top, top lad
• Get me into a good uni (wink wink)
• Grow a goatee and dye it pink in aid of breast cancer
• Dress up on Mufti Day
• Cut off Runty's balls (preferably with a spoon)
• Go back on your decision to resign (I love you so much)

 

Love,

The Eton Boy xxx

Of course, being the consummate professional he is Tony would hardly agree to any of these. But he might lean back in his chair, let out a chuckle or two whilst thinking ‘what a scallywag!’ and then go back to clipping his nails.

With that image in mind I wish everyone reading this the very merriest of Christmases. I hope you drink well, eat well, and don’t get plonked next to Aunt Gertrude!