New Year is traditionally the time we impose some hellish resolution upon ourselves in a quest to become healthier, teetotal and all round model citizens.
But after a festive period full of indulgence going cold turkey is often a recipe for disaster.
Year after year I set myself some ambitious target - usually to lose weight and get fit - only to find myself hanging up my gym gear and reaching for the left over Christmas chocolates before the month is out.
I like millions of others am a classic New Year’s resolution breaker - Just one in 10 of us will achieve our goal, according to a recent study with most of us scrapping the good intentions as early as January 23.
So I found myself thinking this year what’s the point?
Why set myself up to fail by being too strict? After all a little bit of what you fancy does you good, so I’ve been told.
So instead of the unattainable targets I usually set myself, I decided to simply cut back rather than cut out.
That was until I glanced at my recycling box overflowing with bottles of booze.
Red wine, port, white wine, cava, Champagne, prosecco and a hearty helping of beer bottles and cans - it certainly was a merry Christmas in my house.
Now before you start sending me the number of a local AA meeting I can confirm I’m not solely responsible for the embarrassing amount of empty bottles.
We did have our fair share of visitors over the festive season, but still it seemed excessive.
Having only moved to the street recently I found myself feeling mildly embarrassed as I dragged - I couldn’t lift- the box to the front of the house desperately waiting for the binmen to come and remove the evidence from the scene of the crime.
I contemplated off-loading some bottles into neighbouring recycling boxes, that to make matters worse were barely even full, never mind overflowing.
Maybe I was overreacting, I’m sure no one would even notice or pass judgement.
However, my fears were realised when I pulled back the curtain one morning only to see a woman gesture towards our recycling box and exclaim rather loudly to her walking partner “Looks like they’ve had a good Christmas”.
It doesn’t help that our house is right next door to a church so the whole Sunday service also had a good old gawp at the contents - let just say I don’t think I’ll be invited to partake in the drinking of communion wine any time soon.
So in the spirit of not imposing unrealistic targets on myself it’s looking like a dry January - or at the very least until the next recycling collection comes round.