“WE’RE off to the pool, see you later…” The trouble with putting off till tomorrow what you should do today, is that putting off the inevitable doesn’t stop it being inevitable.

I’m probably the world’s greatest procrastinator. I started young; sitting in my bedroom, reading a book rather than doing my homework; at university I would start work on my essays the night before they were due in. Bill, the Journal’s esteemed editor has had his patience tested more than once with an article sent in hours before the Journal was due to go to press.

“Look, you’ve got two articles and three days to do them,” said Tina showing signs of increasing frustration. “That’s plenty of time.”

And there was. But there were so many other things that I needed to do first. Cookies and flapjacks to make for the journey, clothes to iron and pack, e-mails to send off, bank accounts to check – all of them more pressing than the articles I needed to complete before I left.

“Can’t do them now,” I told Tina, “The house needs tidying before I go away.” “But no-one will notice! Just get your articles done. You’ll feel so much better.”

I knew she was right. I recalled school days blighted by projects, essays and geography diagrams hanging over me like proverbial Swords of Damocles; the awareness of eventual euphoria once I’d completed the task, or itself an insufficient spur to action.

Old habits die hard. A letter with bad news requiring an onerous response lies unopened on my desk for days before I summon sufficient courage to respond. My reluctance to face reality compounding my anxiety and delaying its eventual relief.

Why is it so hard to learn from the past? We find ourselves repeating the same patterns of behaviour over and over again even to our detriment. The comfort and security of the familiar so attractive and reassuring that they override our common sense even when we know full well that our best interests lie elsewhere. We are creatures of habit. We choose patterns of behaviour, relationships, ways of coping with life that are cosily familiar. What we did yesterday is our best guide to what we will do tomorrow, and we find ourselves returning to the same place to which we vowed that we would never return.

So as they all return from pool refreshed and ready for a drink, I have been stuck here alone typing away. “But,” I tell myself with the very best of intentions, “Next week will be different.” I can beat this. I will surprise Tina, Bill – even myself - by completing it early – or at least on time. I could even start it tomorrow if there wasn’t so much else to be done first…