We are nearly there 2021; I wonder how long I will last before I break any New Year’s resolutions?
I often write about my mum dying at Christmas, with her timing being pretty good. She left me with great memories, and she had a great life, beating cancer at 42 and living to 90, with only one hiccup when her beloved husband Len died 28 years before – she never stopped talking about him until the day she passed.
Dear old Dad’s passing is a real issue for me. I am turning 63 and Dad died at 66, which means I could have just three to go? If that’s the case, a few resolutions are in order. A new diet, no fried or processed food if possible, and if I do weaken only on one day a week, with the intention of losing eight kilos and keeping it off without sacrificing my love of a cold beer or robust shiraz. Don’t sweat the little things is going to the top of my list, along with you can’t change what you can’t change so let it go.
Pretentious people will not get my time unless I am getting to paid to be nice to them and material possessions unless somehow hooked to my soul go to the bottom of the list, unless it’s a Ducati. That goes for reality television as well – I refuse to spend my last three years watching the imperfections of the human race which seems to actually make them famous, which shows what a sad lot we are and no more for me. If I have only three years to go, I am not going to watch some loser on television backstab their way through the show and end up on national radio.
Finally, as a wise person once said, if you give 20 per cent of your time or your wealth to someone or something in need you will get it back twofold so that’s my plan. But I don’t want anything back apart from maybe getting above that 66 number. I really would like to be around to watch my grandkids grow up, but only If I’m having fun. Happy New Year.