Reset is the buzz word of the moment – forget New Year resolutions. Whether it’s describing the future of the England cricket team after their disastrous Ashes performance, Keir Starmer promising a reset for his Government, or mumfluencers on Instagram doing resets of their home involving much plumping of cushions, the reset is king and its hashtag has 2.9 million posts.
Not to be left behind, I’m planning a personal reset this new year. The precise details aren’t entirely clear, but one thing I know is that it won’t involve plumping cushions.
Let’s face it, a reset sounds way more interesting than making resolutions. A reset is a positive action. While resolutions are what you intend to do, a reset happens once, then it’s sorted. Or that’s the plan.
After my reset I will have taken out a gym membership and actually used it, rather than letting it lapse after the first month. I will have discovered I prefer a steaming mug of antioxidant-rich white tea rather than my usual four espressos. I will have magically rewired myself to close cupboards and drawers instead of always leaving them open.
My reset will teach me to always say ‘no’ to the third glass of wine and to listen to Radio 3 upon waking rather than the depressing news feed I currently tune into all day. Most importantly, I will have learnt the art of listening to what others are saying instead of always butting in.
I might be unrecognisable after my reset, but that’s the point. There is no going back. Maybe the England cricket team should try it.
My reset will teach me to always say ‘no’ to the third glass of wine, writes Alexandra Shulman
My gift… to the next Ed Sheeran
My Christmas present was an acoustic guitar. Ever since I was at school I’ve wanted to play the guitar, but have failed, on repeat, to master anything other than the most basic chords.
Every 20 years or so I get a new guitar and start all over again, in the hope this time it will be different. I’ve even cut my nails short, in expectation of the finger picking I will perfect.
My last guitar sat unused for years in a corner of my office with a slim crack in the wood. When the guitar shop where we’d bought it didn’t want it back, I decided to leave it on the pavement with a Please Take Me note.
In the early evening the doorbell rang and a boy of about 13 stood on the step holding the guitar and asking if I really wanted to give it away. He’d just decided he wanted to learn to play and took this as a sign. I told him I would be delighted if he took it, and I now imagine I have donated my guitar to the next Ed Sheeran.
Meanwhile, I will be very happy if I can be the next Joan Baez.
Night Manager Tom’s big break
The Night Manager’s Tom Hiddleston with Kathryn Worth in the 2007 British film Unrelated, a brilliant portrayal of the emotional carelessness of youth which hinted at his star quality
The second series of The Night Manager starts on Thursday, which is excellent news. Will it match the tension of the first series without the villainous performances of Hugh Laurie and Tom Hollander? I’m not sure.
Not that Tom Hiddleston makes a bad job of undercover agent Jonathan Pine – he just doesn’t (rather like his character) leave any deep footprints, apart from a glimpse of his bare bottom. For me, Hiddleston’s most enthralling performance was in the 2007 British film Unrelated, written and directed by Joanna Hogg. Although he was already 26, Hiddleston plays an older teenager who captivates a childless middle-aged woman, callously unaware of the effect he is having.
It’s a brilliant portrayal of the emotional carelessness of youth and, with hindsight, hints at the stellar career still ahead of him.
In the middle of a chain reaction
You can’t move in London without tripping over a chain restaurant. Which is why I love our local in Queen’s Park, north-west London. It’s a much-loved independent that serves daily tagines along with excellent sandwiches, soups and endless kids’ meals.
But, for some reason, the City of London Corporation has chosen to reallocate all of its cafe tenancies in the New Year and is booting out the existing cafe owners (as well as three others in north London) in favour an Australian chain called Daisy Green.
I’m so incensed, I’ve joined up with other protesters and am ready to march if necessary.
Small details make a giant impression
Our 98-year-old mother spends much of her day sitting in the same chair in the same spot of her house. It’s hugely frustrating for her not to be able to move around as she used to, but I’ve noticed that she has managed to turn her inquiring gaze, once focused on new plays, exhibitions and artists, on her immediate surroundings.
She notices how the sunlight on the trees outside the window makes patterns of the leaves.
She is intrigued by the design on the rug below her, tracing the oriental swirls and working out where they join up.
She notices small growths in the pot plants across the room… all on a daily basis.
It’s an example of how, even when our world shrinks, it is possible to find interest in the smallest of details, and is incredibly inspiring in this age of attention deficiency.
And the ugliest clothing ever is…
Will there ever be an end to the ubiquitous padded coat trend?
There was a time before these jackets and coats turned vast swathes of the population into identikit Michelin men/women, but that era seems as distant as that of the Victorian crinoline.
Yes, padded jackets are convenient and cosy, but they fall into the category of most unattractive clothes ever invented.
Oh for the days of a proper overcoat, which in contrast now strikes me as unutterably glamorous.
