Happy new year. Possibly. Or possibly not. It increasingly seems to me that making new year resolutions is a young person’s game, as I made most of the big lifestyle changing decisions decades ago. I haven’t drunk, smoked or done drugs for near on 30 years and I’ve been a gym bunny for about as long. Not out of any moral superiority, I should point out, but because it took me until I was 30 to realise my desire to live was greater than my desire to die. My therapist once called me the second most self-destructive person she had ever met. My initial reaction was to be gutted not to have headed that particular leader board, which I suppose rather proved her point. All this clean living may have helped keep me breathing, but it hasn’t staved off mental illness, and I still suffer periodic episodes of crippling anxiety and depression that seem to operate to cycles of their own. So I now feel rather past making resolutions and have settled instead for making vague plans. Anything more definite than that seems way too stressful.
A YouGov survey suggests that most of the country has as little faith in Brexit coming up roses as Sir Ivan Rogers, who resigned as Britain’s ambassador to the EU because he felt the government was totally clueless. In December 2015, 21% of people felt they would be better off in the next year. By December 2016, the figure had fallen to just 11%. Those thinking they would be worse off has risen from 25% to 38% in the same period. This doesn’t sound like the kind of Brexit bonanza that Vote Leave…
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