NEW Year's resolutions. Many, including me, will be thinking about making them around now despite having partly given up on that lifelong yearning to 'lose weight', 'get that dream job' and 'find the perfect partner'.

Let's face it, the more world weary of us are now on the kind of 'positive thinking' footing which hopes we will at least not get any fatter, stave off redundancy and make do with chocolate as a boyfriend substitute next year.

Now, I'm no advocate of American-style goal setting or any such nonsense, but I do think a good New Year's resolution keeps the hope alive. I decided this time last year, not that I would change my body shape, but that I would begin daily flossing. And guess what, I have kept it up to this day and my teeth have never looked better. Each time I look at my pearlies, I am reminded of the steely drive that got me my flawless smile. I also decided to give up coffee - another great goal because I can still drink tea for my caffeine kick. Both achievable goals that make me feel incredibly powerful, with the inner strength of a Shaolin monk.

Thinking smaller may be the key to transforming your life. Having said that, a friend and I got together on January 1, 2003, to write out our resolutions with big cheesy colourful pens. I wrote about my flossing, etc, while she made what I thought was a cardinal mistake. FIND A MAN AND GET MARRIED, she wrote, in yellow felt-tip. I thought she was setting herself up to fail until she told me she'd got engaged four months later. Was this a twist of fate or did she make it happen on January 1? Who knows.

All I know is that we cannot have a tick-list by which we transform our lives, but perhaps wishing for something can help it to happen. And what better time to detox than after a period of reckless excess, even if it only lasts four days.

My resolutions will be to begin using night cream, stop wearing bed socks and to find the love of my life. Here's hoping.

ASURVEY found that single women are far happier than single men, who ideally prefer serial monogamy. I am single and come to think of it, I'm extremely happy. I may be childless and have too great a fondness for cats but I actually feel fairly fulfilled. I am always perplexed by smug married friends who suggest I have a void in my life because I don't have children or a husband. Admittedly, I can see the signs of my own spinsterhood - I have begun voluntary work and toyed with taking up knitting - but who says I can only be happy if I conform to the 'nuclear family' ideal? No thanks, I'd rather knit.