‘It’s spring, you should make a list of all the things you want to achieve this year!’ my husband proclaimed last night, before launching into a tirade on objectives and outcomes and measurements. ‘It’d be nice to be a bit more toned…’ I tried, which only served to unleash another torrent of mania, with husband waving his list in front of me, on which there were at least 30 items stated. I noted that ‘Learn Swedish’ had made it to the top three. This isn’t the first year that Swedish has been a part of his plan. In the past he has both attended classes and attempted to learn through audiobooks. As a result, he is now able to announce that This sauna is very hot and that he has No swimming trunks and no change for the locker, in Swedish. While these sentences serve him well as a party trick, he is frustrated by their use in everyday conversation. Regardless, he will throw his limited vocabulary at unsuspecting Swedish shopkeepers and train guards with gusto. ‘WHEN DOES THE TUNNEL CHILD LEAVE?!’ (=when is the next tube) ‘HAVE YOU GOT ANYTHING FOR WIND IN MOUTH?!?’ (=I have a mouth ulcer) The latter was met by the pharmacist quietly enquiring as to whether he was Danish, which obviously counted as a triumph. ‘I don’t mind you not speaking Swedish,’ I admitted which was rebutted with a lecture on how it’s always good to have ambitious goals. This made me feel ashamed; perhaps I too should have a list of 30 goals in 2018. Then I looked closer at the list and spotted ‘Learn how to use thermostat’, closely followed by ‘Try to remember facebook password’, after which I didn’t feel so bad anymore.