New Year. Same old you?

I am the kind of person who, perhaps ever so slightly compulsively, makes lists. I make lists on heart-shaped post-its, on kitchen roll, on the back of both hands. But I am also the kind of person who purposefully adds things I have already done onto the list. Purely so that I can delight in crossing them out with a red pen and a flourish. So for me, the idea of a list of New Year’s resolutions is both exciting, and ultimately, pointless.

The problem with these resolutions is that many of us set out with the best intentions in the world. But simply end up totally frustrated with and utterly disappointed in ourselves when, come the 3rd, we shamelessly gulp down a bottle of Jacob’s finest, or hurriedly scoff three dairy milks in a row, or frantically chain smoke a packet of fags, or joyously cut up our one year gym membership. Or for some “sinners,” all of the above.

So then we spend the rest of January, that little bit plumper, plagued by an irrepressible sense of guilt. Instead of which, we should be hitting the sales. This constant preoccupation with remorse and culpability doesn’t do anyone any favours.

I suggest we take a leaf out of Nigella’s sumptuous cookery book. Any time we pause as we pick up a delectably chocolately, sexually-fulfilling cream tart, we should listen to her as she leans over our shoulder, perfectly wrapped up in her pink silk dressing gown like a strawberry cream Quality Street, and whispers in her caramel-smooth voice, “oh go on, just another won’t hurt.” Hmmm.

And for those of us embarking on a gruelling path to starvation, those M&S adverts don’t help either. Nor do programmes like Supersize Me. A friend of mine is known to have watched the health-destroying, organ-consuming documentary and driven straight to the nearest golden arches.

But ultimately, resolutions are there to be broken. Just like diets. And school rules. And nails. As soon as you tell yourself “no,” your body, mind, soul and Ms Lawson immediately scream yes.

So maybe the way forward is to put no bars or barriers on anything, and then we would be less tempted to be naughty. Now I’m not talking about legalising prostitution, or class A drugs – although maybe even that’s not such a bad idea. All I am saying is that maybe we shouldn’t deprive ourselves of the little things in life that make us happy, albeit momentarily. After all, there is only ever size 16 and above left in the sales.