In today’s zeitgeist, “reset” has become the go-to concept, overshadowing the traditional New Year resolutions. Whether it’s the England cricket team aiming to bounce back after their disappointing Ashes series, Keir Starmer advocating for a governmental reboot, or Instagram’s mom influencers revamping their living spaces with a flurry of cushion fluffing, the “reset” trend dominates. Its hashtag boasts a staggering 2.9 million posts.

Not wanting to be left out, I’ve decided to embark on my own personal reset this new year. Although the specifics remain vague, one certainty is that it will not involve any cushion adjustments.

Let’s be honest, a reset seems far more appealing than setting resolutions. While resolutions are mere intentions, a reset is a decisive action. Once it’s done, it’s done—or at least, that’s the goal.

Post-reset, I’ll have committed to a gym membership and, more importantly, utilized it, rather than abandoning it after a month. My beverage of choice will shift from four espressos to a soothing mug of antioxidant-rich white tea. Miraculously, I will have trained myself to close cupboards and drawers, breaking the habit of leaving them perpetually ajar.

This reset will also instill in me the discipline to decline a third glass of wine and swap my morning news feed for the calming tunes of Radio 3. Above all, I will master the art of actively listening, instead of constantly interrupting conversations.

While this transformation might render me unrecognizable, that’s precisely the objective. There will be no turning back. Perhaps the England cricket team should consider adopting a similar strategy.

My reset will teach me to always say ‘no’ to the third glass of wine, writes Alexandra Shulman

My gift… to the next Ed Sheeran

My Christmas present was an acoustic guitar. Ever since I was at school I’ve wanted to play the guitar, but have failed, on repeat, to master anything other than the most basic chords.

Every 20 years or so I get a new guitar and start all over again, in the hope this time it will be different. I’ve even cut my nails short, in expectation of the finger picking I will perfect.

My last guitar sat unused for years in a corner of my office with a slim crack in the wood. When the guitar shop where we’d bought it didn’t want it back, I decided to leave it on the pavement with a Please Take Me note.

In the early evening the doorbell rang and a boy of about 13 stood on the step holding the guitar and asking if I really wanted to give it away. He’d just decided he wanted to learn to play and took this as a sign. I told him I would be delighted if he took it, and I now imagine I have donated my guitar to the next Ed Sheeran.

Meanwhile, I will be very happy if I can be the next Joan Baez.

Night Manager Tom’s big break

The Night Manager’s Tom Hiddleston with Kathryn Worth in the 2007 British film Unrelated, a brilliant portrayal of the emotional carelessness of youth which hinted at his star quality

The second series of The Night Manager starts on Thursday, which is excellent news. Will it match the tension of the first series without the villainous performances of Hugh Laurie and Tom Hollander? I’m not sure.

Not that Tom Hiddleston makes a bad job of undercover agent Jonathan Pine – he just doesn’t (rather like his character) leave any deep footprints, apart from a glimpse of his bare bottom. For me, Hiddleston’s most enthralling performance was in the 2007 British film Unrelated, written and directed by Joanna Hogg. Although he was already 26, Hiddleston plays an older teenager who captivates a childless middle-aged woman, callously unaware of the effect he is having.

It’s a brilliant portrayal of the emotional carelessness of youth and, with hindsight, hints at the stellar career still ahead of him.

In the middle of a chain reaction

You can’t move in London without tripping over a chain restaurant. Which is why I love our local in Queen’s Park, north-west London. It’s a much-loved independent that serves daily tagines along with excellent sandwiches, soups and endless kids’ meals.

But, for some reason, the City of London Corporation has chosen to reallocate all of its cafe tenancies in the New Year and is booting out the existing cafe owners (as well as three others in north London) in favour an Australian chain called Daisy Green.

I’m so incensed, I’ve joined up with other protesters and am ready to march if necessary.

Small details make a giant impression

Our 98-year-old mother spends much of her day sitting in the same chair in the same spot of her house. It’s hugely frustrating for her not to be able to move around as she used to, but I’ve noticed that she has managed to turn her inquiring gaze, once focused on new plays, exhibitions and artists, on her immediate surroundings.

She notices how the sunlight on the trees outside the window makes patterns of the leaves.

She is intrigued by the design on the rug below her, tracing the oriental swirls and working out where they join up.

She notices small growths in the pot plants across the room… all on a daily basis.

It’s an example of how, even when our world shrinks, it is possible to find interest in the smallest of details, and is incredibly inspiring in this age of attention deficiency.

And the ugliest clothing ever is…

Will there ever be an end to the ubiquitous padded coat trend?

There was a time before these jackets and coats turned vast swathes of the population into identikit Michelin men/women, but that era seems as distant as that of the Victorian crinoline.

Yes, padded jackets are convenient and cosy, but they fall into the category of most unattractive clothes ever invented.

Oh for the days of a proper overcoat, which in contrast now strikes me as unutterably glamorous.