It’s hard to talk about your own good qualities without appearing conceited and self-obsessed. But I think we know each other well enough by now for you to be aware that I’m normally one for focusing on the negative things about myself. As such, a rare celebration of Something That I Am Good At should be applauded.

Go on, applaud. (You don’t have to applaud. But good on you if you genuinely started applauding there.)

I have absolutely no hesitation in my mind when someone asks me what my best quality is. Without a doubt, it’s my dedication. If I start something, by God I’m going to finish it come hell or high water. It may take a long time, it may take lots of swearing, but I am going to do it.

This blog is perhaps the most immediate example of this, now a year and ten days of daily posts strong, but there’s plenty of other instances in which this characteristic of myself shows itself. Let’s take today, for example, I woke up in a foul mood and decided after a bit of moping around, a bacon sandwich and two cups of coffee that I was going to go out for a walk in an attempt to clear my head a bit. And it was going to be a “long” walk.

I didn’t have a particular route in mind, nor did I have a particular distance planned. I just set off, pointed in a particular direction and started walking. I reached the next village over from where I live—always a strangely satisfying thing to do, like you’ve made some sort of epic journey—and turned back. I eventually came to a crossroads where I had three choices; go back the way I came (the “short” way), turn right and do a big “loop” around the other next village over (the “moderate” way) or turn left and do an unnecessarily massive “loop” (the “long” way). Guess which way I picked?

That’s right. The long way. I realised shortly into my journey up the long way that the long way was, in fact, considerably longer than I had anticipated, and the fact that I was wearing twice the number of layers on my top half than on my bottom half meant that my torso and head were lovely and toasty, while my testicles were slowly turning into ice blocks. It would have been easy to turn back from the long way and head back via the short way—I hadn’t got that far. But no; I decided I was going to stick out this journey however long it eventually ended up being. (A total of 12.5km altogether, if you were wondering.)

Some may call that stubbornness. Some may call it bloody-mindedness. Some may call it stupidity. I call it dedication to see something through once you start it. And it’s something that’s a regular part of my life. I like that about myself, and it’s not often I get to say that.