Being as I am a veteran of newspapers and magazines, the onslaught of detox, get-fit-for January pieces are such a horrible inevitable cliche that it makes me want to shut my hand in a door.

And yet, if anyone ought to be reading them, it’s me. I fell full foul of the Christmas all-you-can-eat bonanza. All that booze, too. No exercise. Fresh air, but not enough. Dark afternoons. I am spotty and grey with lines like tide marks under my eyes, round my mouth. Every morning in the mirror I’m like “Who is that old woman wearing my pyjamas?” My jeans are operating at maximum capacity.

But I know better than anyone that an about-turn is never the way to sort out one’s life or weight. Not that I know how much weight I’ve put on as I am too scared to look. One has to back quietly away from a fortnight of drinking and eating everything in sight rather than screaming “I’M LEAVING” in its face.

Plus I always worry slightly that a period of excessive drinking changes my DNA to the critical point of dependence, whereby if I was to stop drinking entirely I might have a stroke.

I know what it is that I have to do in order to get back to normal, it’s just a question of settling back into that zone, the white-fish-and-greens dinner, no-drinking-during-the-day routine. And getting those kids back in school, who send me screaming to the treat tin at around 3.30pm and screaming towards the Zinfandel at around 7.05pm.

Meanwhile, here are some pictures of spring flowers to get you in the mood for the new year. I am not a fascist about taking Christmas decorations down – but I insist that when I do take them down, ( January 3rd or thereabouts), they are immediately replaced with fresh flowers, otherwise it’s just too sad.