I always start the year with the intention to breeze through a stack of books whilst work is quiet, I’m not back at uni, and the social calendar has quietened down after the holiday break, but inevitably other things come up (including impromptu trips to the beach to capitalise on the glorious weather at the moment).

Every year I set myself one reading goal: to read 52 books in the year. This is usually an achievable goal, but in 2021 I fell short by just 5 books. I didn’t feel unaccomplished for not reaching my goal — the number was arbitrary and one that I set each year regardless of how much free time I expect to have that year. It inspired some reflection however on whether I should even bother with setting a reading goal in 2022.