THE Cornish Times office at the end of Fore Street gives a good view of passers-by and rarely a day goes by without some child or other having one of those ear-splitting tantrums that all we parents, however old, can remember so well. Or should I say we ought to, because the reaction of some people who witness this is sometimes surprising. Whereas I can understand people who have never had children walk past and look at the culprit, and its parent, with disdain, I can't understand why other mums do it. Surely there can't be a parent anywhere who has never had to put up with the screeching, yelling, leg kicking and arm waving toddler who has decided to make his or her mark on the day in a very loud way. But no, you see people looking on and tutting in a patronising and disapproving way, as though they can't understand why anyone could fail to lose control of such a miniature hurricane. We've all been there. Walking through a crowded supermarket, strolling in the park, attending a family function. All is well until a child who may be tired, hungry, a bit peaky or just plain ornery, decides that a simple crying session just won't do and launches into all out pandemonium. It's bad enough having to try and reason with a small whirling Dervish and the embarrassment of bringing the whole area to an abrupt halt without someone voicing the theory that it's likely to be the fault of the said child's upbringing. What do you do? Well, these days they make television programmes about it and I'm no expert but l used to deal with a tantrum by pretending it wasn't there. No I don't mean do a runner and leave the culprit alone, but I tended just to wait until it ran out of steam. Slapping isn't likely to help, and you can't do it now any way. Neither will an attempt to reason with the child. 'Now Justin, just stop that noise, all these people are looking at you and thinking what a naughty boy you are.' Justin isn't likely to care about that, he's quite happy that all those people are looking at him. Good result in fact. I suppose you can try picking them up, especially if they have thrown themselves on the ground and are nearing deep puddles, but be prepared for some nasty bruises about your person. Men should especially beware of little kicking legs which can deal a nasty blow to the male ego! Distraction? Yes, if there is a handy ice cream van near, but this could result in a 99 cone in your face, so be prepared to duck. So, on the theory that even a child who seems to have boundless energy will eventually tire, let them get on with it. And don't bother about the onlookers. Whatever they say, they've all been through it.

Every new year, rather than make a ridiculous resolution, I try to think of something new I can do in the coming months. Something I haven't done before. It's different from New Year resolutions in that it usually doesn't involve giving something up, but rather taking something on. New Year's resolutions are a bit silly and by now most people have broken at least one of theirs, if not all. I know five people who were going to give up smoking and haven't, with various excuses 'I didn't say when I was going to give up,' is the usual one, as you find them guiltily puffing away on New Year's Day, blaming a hangover or the need to get rid of the last packet. Worse are the people who actually give up buying cigarettes but will still beg for one of yours. 'I'm doing quite well really, this is only the fifth I've had today,' they say, which means there are four other suckers out there somewhere. Diets are also top of the resolution list and seem fine when offered up by a bloated person who is still suffering from the effects of turkey overload and piles of pud. Especially when they find zips are harder to do up. But in the cold light of January a strict regime doesn't seem such a good idea, especially if following a daft diet like grapefruit and bananas on alternate days. Guaranteed to fail on the fifth banana day! So no resolutions for me. But what to replace them? At one time it used to be a hobby, which perfectly suits as a replacement for a New Year's resolution. You can start at the beginning of the year and vow to perfect some new pastime and by the end of December your house could be full of pristine patchwork quilts, or every window covered with art nouveaux stained glass figures. What is more likely, sad to say, is that you could have a half finished patchwork cushion cover fashioned out of lurid unwanted floral curtains tucked into a drawer and half the bathroom window adored by what looks like one of the seven dwarves holding up a dandelion. Or rather I can, because I do tend to run out of steam when it comes to new hobbies. Around April. There used to be a sort of elephants' graveyard of failed hobbies, a drawer full of the detritus of unfinished articles. There would be a macrame plant pot holder, now looking just like a tangle of string. Underneath the bottom half of the back of a Fair Isle knitted jumper with a slightly wonky pattern nestling close to my easy steps to lacemaking sample (small, dirty and crumbled). Elsewhere you might find crochet attempts, usually circles with an ever increasing number of unintended holes, various bits of needlework with only the daisy flowers filled in (the leaves and stems defeated me) and at least one item of quilting (I never got the hang of the stuffing). One hobby I tried more than once was needlepoint, the end results, done by someone who knows what they are doing, can be stunning. I really put effort into this, buying complicated patterns when perhaps I should have started with something simple (like a square box). The snag was I never actually mastered doing the one essential stitch you need for needlepoint, which rather takes the fun out of it. My family remind me that the worst of my hobbies was woodstripping, which began well with a small painted pine bathroom cabinet. Because it had no awkward bits I managed to get all the original white paint off and reveal some nice wood. Well, alright I forgot to remove the white paint underneath the cabinet but you could only see that when you were in the bath. Then I went on to bigger things, with lots of twirly bits, and there was the problem. The twirly bits usually flatly refused to give up their original paint and had to be gouged out so that the end result looked as if it had had a multiple woodwork attack. I finally gave up stripping when I discovered that there were firms being set up who would do it for you in a tenth of the time. This was in the days when stripped pine was just coming in. You send your item away and it returned stripped of its outer layer. The only problem was that some of these firms were almost as amateurish as me, so used too strong a solution and removed all the glue from the pieces. Your little Victorian wash stand would arrive back looking wonderful but days later you were likely to walk into the bedroom and find a pile of wood in the corner. So, no hobbies. Now I just think I'd like to either tackle something different. Last year it was creating a border out of an old shrubbery, which I did with much back breaking work. This year it can be learning a new skill, like taking evening classes in plumbing, or travelling somewhere entirely new. Whatever it is, it will give a sense of achievement, which is more than can be said for a new year resolution you break on January 4.