I can’t wait until the end of January. This has nothing to do with Brexit, and everything to do with people telling me they haven’t had a drink since Christmas and that their skin is so much brighter. Or that veganism is working out so well, as they eat some heavily processed mush that has no resemblance to any plant, living or dead. Especially fascinating was the chat I had with a young woman who asked if I was hydrated enough. Did I keep water on my desk or in a special bottle? “I get it from the tap after some yummy heroin,” I told her. I mean, is this what passes for conversation? I can hear my youngest’s “OK boomer” now, which is her retort to almost everything I say.
The worst is that now I want to bin my phone. I haven’t signed up for any apps, but it informed me suddenly: “Last week was a challenge for you. Try to be more active this week.” What? Yeah, I was tired and jetlagged – another thing that is destroying me as well as the planet. I’ve already had to throw away my Fitbit, as it felt way too demanding. It seemed to want more of a relationship with me than I wanted with it.
But it’s all getting worse. Age UK is now boasting of gyms full of old people – the over-55s are doing more exercise than ever before. Great. Even pensioners. It lowers the risks of dementia, stroke, cancer and all that.
This comes as no surprise, as most of them seem to be working out in my park, breathing heavily with their knees strapped up. Good luck and good health, and keep on trucking. I do know that I should move more and eat less. Beyond that, what is there to say? Loads, apparently. Just stop saying it to me or I may expire any day. Of boredom.
• Suzanne Moore is a Guardian columnist
