Saturday 4th January – It’s early afternoon as I commence this prose. My observations relayed whilst residing in a south Leeds retail outlet’s food court; along with thousands of prospective consumers, my companions an oft utilised laptop and Americano coffee.

The low winter sun shining through the glass dome roof overhead adds a glow to Christmas decorations enjoying their final day exhibiting chromatic displays prior to tomorrows twelfth night and hibernation until November. The calendar juncture where, six weeks before next Christmas, they’ll receive a perennial premature airing.

I woke this morning with the randomly manifested philosophical notion ‘It’s better to have loved and lost than it is for Sainsbury’s wine aisle to run out of Sauvignon Blanc’. A mantra which I may utilise in 2020. Not an adage highlighting the orator having a drink problem. Moreover, an advocacy helping focus the mind on the requirement for priorities when confronted by existential intruders this new year.

As written about in the narrative My 2020 Vision, this year I’m resolved my priorities will focus around physical and emotional wellbeing, along with aspirations of rewriting a tome I penned (and left to gather dust) in 2010. Other ambitions include exploring the options of podcasting a subset of my daily journals.

Last January’s heart attack has driven home the need to show myself a great deal more self-care than previously. This requirement including using my monthly gym membership as per objective when I took it out in July 2019, ie attending a leisure centre to undertake the bespoke fitness programme designed for me at that juncture. Crucially addressing my recent penchant for metaphorically p***ing £24.99 a month subscriptionup against the nearest urinal wall.

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I’ve not acted upon rectifying my lack of recent exercise yet, but if I don’t start this regime next week you’ve my permission to email me on fredsaidwrite@gmail.com, admonishing me for my inept motivation and lack of self-discipline.

I’m of the opinion if I can find an exercise I enjoy, as I did in my younger days playing football and cricket, my motivation levels will rise significantly. Yours truly finds running, rowing and treadmill exercise tedious, contributing to my disenchantment at partaking in those sporting pastimes.

I don’t mind running around a five-a-side football court, or at least didn’t used to when wearing a younger man’s clothes. However, in isolation I discern metronomically running/jogging/power walking step after step in a forward direction is utterly soul destroying. I may explore the possibility of walking football, or visit the football golf course near my son Jonathon in York.

Recently Jonathon enquired, via the wonders of telephonic communication, if I’d fancy partaking in a round of this unconventional pastime. I responded in the affirmative, however my eldest (nearly thirty-something) child and me have yet to firm up plans for this challenge.

Being a more accomplished footballer than Joffan (as my daughter Rachel dubbed him as a young child), I’d suggest my chances at prevailing against Jonny in a round of football golf (or golf football) would be significantly higher than competing at the conventional game at which he’s far better than I.

Embarking on a different tangent with regards what my lay ahead in 2020, as a kid one of my favourite cartoon shows was The Jetsons. An animated Hanna-Barbera offering which appeared to indicate by the year 2020 all domestic travel would be undertaken in flying vehicles. Today I read an American newspaper chronicling company Uber are determined to introduce flying cars sooner rather than later, however not to expect owning a flying car this year.

Eines Tages über dem Regenbogen!