A Brand New Me: The hilarious romantic comedy about one year of first dates. Shari Low

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       Prologue ‘Three…two…one…Happy New Year!’

      The champagne corks popped, streamers fell, the music blared, lovers embraced, their hearts overflowing with joy as they welcomed in another year…

      But unfortunately all that happened on the TV.

      In my living room, three twenty-something friends sat shrouded in dejection, watching the celebrations on the box, each clutching a sparkler in one hand and a drink in the other.

      ‘We are officially the saddest people on the planet,’ I muttered.

      ‘No, we are not!’ argued Stuart.

      Over on the other couch, Trish burst into a faux-tragic rendition of ‘My Heart Must Go On’.

      ‘Okay, now we are,’ said Stu. ‘Right, Trish, one verse and a chorus and that’s it. My ears will start to bleed any minute.’

      His voice got louder with every word as he endeavoured to be heard over the noise of poppers and whistles coming from next door. Even my neighbour Mrs Naismith was having a much wilder time than us, which, given that she was in her seventies, was taking the night to a whole new level of depression.

      A wave of something suddenly consumed me. In hindsight it was probably several large glasses of Rosé Cava, but at that moment it absolutely felt like it was something real–something important. ‘I’m making a resolution,’ I announced.

      ‘Here we go…’ grinned Stuart, consulting his watch. ‘Two minutes, three seconds–that’s a record.’

      I ignored him and spoke up so that I could be heard over the noise of Trish going down with the Titanic.

      ‘My dear saddo friends, this is it–this is the year I stop being unfulfilled, skint and single. I’m going to find the perfect job, the perfect man, the perfect life. Oh, and sex–I’m going to have bloody great sex!’

      I stood up with a flourish and dramatically raised my glass to propose a toast…

      ‘Wow!’ spluttered Stu and Trish in perfect synchronisation.

      I was gratified by the enthusiastic reactions from my audience.

      ‘I know,’ I continued, in the solemn, dignified manner of a politician announcing that he was running for prime minister, ‘it’s a huge challenge, but I’m determined.’

      ‘Leni, get out of the way of the telly! We weren’t wowing you, you daft cow–you’ve made that same speech every year since 1998. We were wowing at the poor bloke playing the bagpipes. A gust of wind just flicked up his kilt and he flashed the entire watching world.’

      Trish had now ceased channelling Celine Dion and dissolved into a puddle of giggles. ‘And I don’t rate his chances of getting a date tonight.’

      Stu automatically leapt to the defence of his fellow man. ‘Look, it’s cold out there–give the guy a break.’

      I thumped back down on the couch just as Stu and Trish’s laughter escalated due to the antics of the demented presenter, who was now making the whole situation even more hilarious by trying to hold down the front of the undeniably cute piper’s kilt with a large microphone.

      Fabulous–the announcement of my life-changing mission had been gazumped by an event that would feature on those TV’s Naughtiest Blunders until the end of time. Although…I suppose they did have a point. Yes, I had made similar resolutions before, but this time I absolutely, definitely meant it. I did. This was going to be the year that I changed my destiny, and the only way to do that would be to take chances, be bold, be fearless, and relentlessly look for opportunities everywhere. Starting right now.

      I wondered if there was any chance of getting that piper’s number?