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Life’s too short for resolutions

'Twas the day before New Year's Eve and we had each arrived at the coffee shop ready to reveal our New Year's resolutions.

Whereas other people's resolutions involve giving things up, Patsy's constant is to never give up and so her determination is to get a man and keep him. To this end, she has decided to widen her circle of opportunity by joining a dance class in the New Year.

"At your age it's going to have to be pole dancing otherwise you'll never catch a man," said Maggie with a loud sigh.

"I make no distinction between the Poles, Latvians or Ukrainians as long as they all have their own teeth and don't have their ex-girlfriend's name tattooed on their backside," replied Patsy.

Maggie gave me that look that said that would be the least of Patsy's problems, but we said nothing and moved on.

Josie's resolution had more to do with growth spurts. She would like one on her chest area and has resolved to convince her other half to pay for a boob job. "Did you know that the Americans have approved a procedure whereby you can get the fat transferred from your bum to your boobs?" she announced.

"I don't wish to dampen your enthusiasm but there is just one small problem. You don't have any surplus fat on your bum," I said.

"No, but you do," she replied. That cut straight to the quick.

"Sweetie, after that remark, if you were dying and needed my kidney I wouldn't hand it over so the chances of getting your hands on my fat are sweet and FA." She drew a line through that particular resolution.

Maggie's intentions are a recurrence of last year's -- to lose weight by exercise and dieting. We all groaned because we have been down this route with Maggie so many times. She starts off well by not coming to the coffee shop where the temptations are many. Instead, she rushes out and buys all the gear -- expensive walking shoes, spandex track suit, lurid coloured headband and a couple of crates of Red Bull -- before power-walking around the bogs of Kildare. This lasts about 10 days until she gets fed up or the Red Bull is gone, whichever comes first. She will then arrive in the coffee shop about the third week in January and complain bitterly that we gave her absolutely no support. Someone will offer her a spoon of their cake and she will ignore it -- for about five seconds -- before saying "feck it, life is too short". And for me this is the best resolution of all!