Speaking Spanish, getting fresh, sexy moves...and no clothes.

Have you abandoned your new year's resolutions yet?  Maybe, like me, you don't usually bother with them.

But I had a rather delicious incentive this year to do things a little differently.

It was Claire's idea. She suggested that four of us meet up, over Prosecco. As corks popped, we would produce slips of paper, on which we'd written our personal New Year's resolutions. These would be read aloud to the group, ventured Claire, then "sniggered at, discussed randomly, signed, sealed, and committed into the dark recesses of a Resolutions Box, 2017". We would then meet a year later, see how we'd done.....and start the whole process again.

She had us at 'Prosecco,' frankly. But nevertheless....our resolutions were prepared, penned and produced with a flourish, at our favourite coffee house just days later. Chief protagonist and Prosecco pourer Claire kicked things off in verse--food and booze featuring strongly--but not quite as we'd expected.

Instead of giving up the sauce, Claire resolved to drink a glass of red wine every day, having convinced herself, and us, after a glass or two of fizz, that it would be "good for the health and the digestion." She'd already started eating fresh food every day, too, and was feeling 'revitalised....'.

One and a half bottles in...so were we. Sue-- a seasoned traveller--was already in the throes of planning a trip to Portugal, she revealed.... then a bigger trip--to Burma. She loved taking photographs on her travels, but readily admitted she wasn't making the most of the decent camera she had, or documenting her pictures for posterity on return. This was all due to change, she promised, adding a pledge to read more; organise her emails better...AND learn a new language. We drank to that.

And to Rose's plans, too, which, possibly, were the most eye-opening of the lot.

She lured us in gently: there'd be a walk each day....even if it was just to town and back.While she was at it, she'd shop locally, rather than at the large, budget supermarket that had become a bit of a guilty habit......AND, for good measure, she'd slap a strict weekly spending limit on herself. She'd keep a diary. PLUS--(we gulped here--Prosecco, mainly--at her next proclamation, in case she'd planned to replace us all)-- she'd resolved to forge new, nurturing, and probably female, friendships. (KEEP us!)

But probably the most radical of all the promises made that day...was Rose's decision to "buy no more clothes for the rest of 2017...". She had plenty already to sort through and wear, she reasoned...rounding her list off with a much applauded Polonius promise "...to thine own self be true...".

Four and a half glasses in....even though every resolution was being cheered rapturously...I was relieved that mine was short and sweet. Only two months before, I'd completed a whistlestop, round the world tour--something I'd always dreamed of doing. But..as the song goes  '...there's such a lot of world...to see....'. Including..sometime.... South America. But you can't really go there without enjoying the music along the way. Especially when your partner is a proficient dancer and all-round party show-off. So my resolution for 2017 is to be prepared....by learning to dance a half decent, sexy samba. On the tables, this time next year, at Ludlow Cicchetti again, probably. As long someone clears the Prosecco bottles. And Sue leaves her camera at home....

So...how are YOU faring? Resolutely avoiding cakes, booze and pasta? Or steering clear of resolutions themselves? I tested the water today, by throwing that question out to friends and family on Twitter and Facebook.

Three weeks in...both Chris in Japan, and Carol in Reading, said they were still pondering over theirs. Carol suggested that I check in with her next Christmas. Jenefer and Angela said they just don't bother. Nor does Dave--adding, somewhat mournfully, that it would be "just one more thing to fail at." (Cheer up, mate!) At a time when many are opting to take part in 'dry January', Rich said he gave up on giving up." I questioned why I was doing it," he said, "and had no good reason!"

Juliet had a different approach. "I don't think you need a new year to start a new resolution or a change in lifestyle," she wrote--adding that she started her new workout routine to get fit for Christmas--"a nicer goal than just working out 'because it's January' ".

Bob agreed. "Rather than re-inventing the wheel every year with New Year resolutions, I've instead always tended towards setting a long-term compass bearing--and sticking to it," he said.

And then there was this, from Annie, who, thankfully...never takes life too seriously...

Whatever's in store for you this year....have a fabulous 2017!

Turn a different corner.....

Ever been far from home....or far, far away in time from where you started....and you see a familiar face?

It just happened.

I was in my favourite coffee hang-out. I had no food in the house after a few days away... so I ordered breakfast too. While I ate, I chatted with the owner and chef, Martyn. We often compare notes about our London days....people we've met, places we've worked. Today we agreed that much of life: love, business, relationships...is down to timing. It was one of those conversations that drifts away into the middle distance...

A couple came in, and ordered food. The woman looked vaguely familiar--someone I'd been to school with, partied with, even holidayed with on a couple of cocktail fuelled teenage girls' package holidays.

Surely not. It had been more than thirty years. More than 200 miles.

I got up to pay, and tried to get a better look. It had been a long time; so I was probably wrong, and anyway, she probably thought I was a bit odd, staring back at her. I didn't want to interrupt their meal...so I left. I headed home, and three paces from my door, did an about turn and walked back up the hill, past the coffee shop and back again....and there she was. " Um.....you're ...not....erm....Sue...are you?", I tried, tentatively...now certain that I'd been right.

Yep, it was Sue. There with her partner....just days after they'd tied the knot, and in my now home-town for a brief honeymoon before heading back down south. In the few moments we had...we compared notes...jobs...children....homes...lives.

Coincidence? Fate? Both there for a reason? Or just a damn fine latte?

You can never be sure, really, can you? But I won't die wondering. And I know I'll be grinning about those "summer nights" for the rest of my Wednesday, now.

Ahhh.... timing....

Year of the Hat*

OK..so if I`d been listening to Al Stewart on January 1st I`d probably have written this then.

But it was a combination of a biting winter wind, and the song* (similar title, ok?) popping up on Shuffle that made me think about titfers.

As a mum, you spend your life juggling the `hats` you wear. You`re nurse, teacher, chauffeur, cleaner, entertainer...and sometimes law enforcer to your kids. That`s one busy hatstand.

And then suddenly...they grow up; get engaged, plan a wedding...and you realise you`re months away from being M.o.B. And M.o.B and H.A.T go together like a ...yeh..horse and carriage, or something ...but not really for someone who really doesn`t wear them much in real life. I mean--the bride herself can carry off a hat with aplomb. Mortar boards; that black fedora in Paris; they seem to suit her. But this is new territory for me. So even if I can escape the hat wearing on one side of the pond (it`s a UK-USA relationship- *so good, they`re marrying twice*...)..I might just have to bite the bullet and buy one.

So I`ll call Saturday in Ludlow a dummy run. It was bloody freezing, actually, strolling around town, and I knew that only a hat would fix me. I splashed out a fiver in the Oxfam charity shop for a little black number, donned it, and loved its cosiness. I even took lunch at a table outside Ludlow Cicchetti-- (I reckon it was minus three with the wind chill factor. In fact, the waitress offered me a rug and a few minutes later... a hot water bottle; but no; the hat was working.) (Second thoughts: maybe the hat made me look 89 or something? Sheesh).

Back home; the high shelves remind me of the smiles I`ve had rehoming my late father`s hats. Toppers, a trilby or two, flat caps; reminders of formal state occasions, days out shooting; days at the races. The place is full of them. Sadly--none of them suitable for the M.o.B unless they want me to do a Cabaret number as `the turn` (unlikely).

So...hat wise; this is one big year. In fact...I`ll need some kind of ski number for next week`s trip to see the M.o.H (chief bridesmaid) in Geneva, too, because we`re popping up to the mountains while I`m there. Before that, I`m in London for my cousin`s silver wedding blessing in church. (Hats to those: Does one?) Back home, I might keep my eye open for a big straw number, so I can dream of warm, relaxing summer days ahead. And then there`s the virtual hard hat everyone should keep handy, because, frankly, you never know what a year`s going to throw at you.

So that`s it then; 2015. The year of the hat. With apologies for its late launch. And no.....the one below isn`t the little brimmed number I bought in a charity shop; it`s me showing off on the Royal Yacht in Edinburgh last year. So how about you? Hat or no hat? Pics please...! @janemcintyre12 on Twitter if you`re brave enough.

Happy Monday! :)