In 2021 we should all be making time to look after ourselves – I know I’ll be

With some time yet before things significantly improve, we all need to find small ways to treat ourselves better, writes Katy Brand

Trains (and train stations) will take a back seat this year, post-Covid (Getty)

I have not made any new year’s resolutions for 2021. And judging by my social media feeds, I am not alone in this. The temptation is of course to simply carry over the unfulfilled resolutions from 2020, but I’m not doing that either.

Mainly because it seems as unlikely that I will see the Taj Mahal by moonlight in the next twelve months as it did in the last. The same goes for running a marathon, although for slightly different reasons. No, instead I am going to bring my aims and expectations closer to home. In fact, even closer than that – to my body.

I travel a lot for work, or at least, I used to. I was always jumping on a train or plane, often at very short notice, to audition for a part in some TV drama in Manchester, or film a documentary in Glasgow, or speak at a book festival in Cornwall. It was a blur of hotels and then back home for long enough to make up for being away, before I’d set off again. I’m not complaining – it was exciting and made me feel important which I always appreciate. But it was also terrible for my health.

In March 2020, I started what I thought would be at least a six-month stint in a hit musical on the West End. I don’t live in London, so I would be travelling home for 48 hours every week, but for the rest of the time I would be in one place, doing one job. This was a rather thrilling prospect. I was also happy that the part involved vigorous dancing almost every night and twice on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

Having spent much of 2019 sat on my large behind writing a book about dancing (Dirty Dancing, to be precise), my fitness, such as it was, had absolutely plummeted. I saw this job as a welcome opportunity to claw some of it back. And do some actual dancing.

And it was working. Two weeks of intensive rehearsals, followed by a fortnight on the job, and I was feeling better and bouncier. Then Covid-19 struck, and the show was shut down. I returned home, uncertain about the future and feeling glum that my genius plan to use paid work as a sort of high-end workout plan had failed.

Then coronavirus struck me, too. I lost my sense of smell, felt delirious and exhausted by turns, had painful jolts through my body, and couldn’t remember words. I was meant to be writing a new book about Mary Poppins and her doctrine of taking practical steps to happiness. It seemed an apt subject, though the first draft was written in a fog of fever and frankly the less said about it the better. Luckily, I had time for plenty of revisions.

So, I have started 2021 much as I started 2020 – feeling sluggish and lethargic, along with the early signs of muscle wastage. I had hit the G&Ts a little too hard last summer, started baking my own garlic bread, and made the disastrous discovery of a local bakery that sells giant choux buns filled with fresh cream. By Christmas, I had to admit that I knew 75 year olds with more get-up-and-go than me. Still, I ignored everything, and watched a few more videos of pensioners swimming in freezing water while I polished off another choux bun.

In the long term, this was not sustainable. And my body was telling me this – dry, pale skin, hair like straw, the beginnings of sciatica, a bowel system not functioning as it should, and an extra 6kg I didn’t need. I also had a mild case of long Covid, with tingling feet and fingers and ongoing headaches. By New Year’s Eve I felt truly dreadful, and took stock of myself for perhaps the first time in a very long time. There wasn’t going to be another West End show to save me. I’d have to do it myself.

So I have decided to live better in 2021, by which I mean treating myself better in small ways. There will be no trains, planes or hotels. I can have a bath rather than a snatched shower. I can sit on the bed and take time to moisturise, getting the circulation going all over my body.

I can prepare a proper breakfast and sit down to eat it. I can take a probiotic. I can get an early night, every night. I really can go for long walks, instead of just talking about it.

I’ll still have a G&T and a choux bun every now and again, but not merely as a short sharp high to cover the lows. I might as well get myself in order. There’s nothing else left to do.

Katy Brand is a writer, actor and comedian