I am not a great believer in horoscopes – or, indeed, a believer in them at all – but I am a Capricorn. While I will have no truck with such nonsense, that means my star sign is the old goat. A few months ago, I met a woman at a party who turned out to be something of a horoscope oracle and she explained how my goatish qualities might sometimes display themselves. Don’t worry – it has nothing to do with ramming you in the rear with my giant horns or even eating your hat.
No, it was, she said, more about how Capricorns approach life. We are sure-footed or, rather, sure-hooved. Our dainty cloven cloppers are matched with rather thick ankles, which means that, if we take our time, we can be relied on to eventually edge up the side of the sheerest and craggiest of mountains. You might need to give us a moment but we will get there. Annoyingly, some of this resonated (mostly the fat ankles part), though when I recounted this to the other half, he said, “That’s just her saying that you are a bit boring.” His smile faded, however, as I charged at him and knocked him flying from the alpine path of life.
My January has not been dry. Well, it has been dry in parts but with squally fronts of wine descending at the weekends. Nevertheless, I will be glad when this month is over and we can all revert to form. While I am not opposed to change – indeed, I seek it – January is filled with too many conversations about how people hope to transform everything from their finances to their physique (you have to remember to leave your scepticism parked in the reality-check garage). But our ability to suddenly become free birds, look like strippers when naked, to diverge, to transform, is about more than just willpower. It depends on our hard-wiring. If you are essentially a goat, sorry, but you need to embrace it.
Last week I met a friend for lunch who works in a high-altitude post at one of those giant technology companies that shape our daily realms. But he also has more side orders of life on the go than anyone I know, juggling numerous passions, pursuits and projects with aplomb. And he’s not overly wedded to any of them. There are lots more things that he wants to try and even the presumably god-status salary is something that seems to matter little to him. I would happily read his management book but he’s inimitable. My focus is different and my strategy, well, more goat.
Then, at the weekend, I met two friends who live between London and Mallorca, and own two apartments. Except they often don’t live in either. Because they are happy to rent both of them out if there are takers, there are times when neither is available to them. So they just park themselves in another city for a month or two, as they are doing right now (if you spot two very relaxed people in Málaga this weekend, say hello). As we chatted, they explained that to make this peripatetic life work, they have vigorously whittled down their possessions and are now able to limit everything that they own in the world to three suitcases kept in storage in each location. Knick-knacks gone, all paperwork scanned and shredded, wardrobes reduced to levels that even a monk might begrudge. Freedom for them but, again, I couldn’t match that. “One cassock is never enough” is my belief.
So, if this is the point in Dry January when you waiver, don’t worry. All you need to do is ignore all of the distractions, find your own path, put one foot in front of the other and do this your way. Lifestyle makeovers take time. Role models are rarely helpful. And there’s always Fix-It February to look forward to if you need some extra leeway to achieve your goals. Take it from a goat.