I HAVEN’T bothered with new year resolutions.

Lose weight? Don’t need to. Stop smoking? Don’t smoke. Stop drinking? Don’t drink. Stop telling lies? Well, all right then. I do drink, but only in moderation. Usually.

Other resolutions that are popular include getting out of debt, learning something new, helping others, going green, reducing stress and being less grumpy.

None of these really apply to me. If I reduced my stress levels any more, I would be so relaxed Maria would have to carry me around in a plastic bag. Around our house I’m so laid back I am quite often horizontal. On the sofa.

And why would I want to learn something new at my time of my life? As Walter once famously said to Nora Batty, “What do I want a new suit for at my age?”

It goes without saying that I am not grumpy. Nor am I any of the other seven dwarfs.

As for resolving to get out of debt, that’s like saying, this year I shall grow six inches and discover what a tall person feels like. Or resolving to fly to the moon without the aid of NASA or even Richard Branson. Debt, it appears to me, is a way of life from which no one can escape.

Celebrities, of course, have different priorities when it comes to resolutions.

Britney Spears says she wants to stop biting her fingernails. As if anybody ever looks at her fingernails when she’s parading about half naked.

At least she is a diversion in these times of recession. Which actually prompts me to make a resolution after all. It is to buy a Subbuteo set and a stack of candles.

This could be a fine investment if times get as bad as they were in 1973 when we had a three day week and homes were frequently without power. That period revived the lost art of conversation when the television fell silent and people sat around in candle glow.

We were staying with my in-laws at the time. Not that conversation ever amounted to much. I mean, we didn’t discuss the lost art of the Minoans or the benefits of the Keynesian theory of economics. It was more along the lines of “I wonder what’s happening in Coronation Street?” or “Put some more coal on that fire” but people did communicate.

And when Maria’s step father started reminiscing about his boyhood in Scotland, I found Subbuteo wonderfully diverting.

We rolled out the felt pitch on the dining room table and had a full tournament of England versus Scotland matches under the flickering gleam of candle floodlights. I let him win the first just to keep him interested. Unfortunately, he kept on winning and England have never had such a sorry series of defeats at the hands of the old enemy.

Still, it served its purpose and we were no longer regaled with Highland memories.

So, if we have power cuts again, I’ll be prepared with Subbuteo, and, if you call round at our house, we won’t have to strain conversation beyond “Heads or tails” or “Penalty, ref”.

Oh yes, and bring your own candles.