In the same way that it’s worth living in a country where it rains in order to experience the wonder of a sunny day, it’s sometimes worth being (a bit) ill, because it’s so nice to wake up and realise you’re well again. I spent yesterday in a vague haze of back and stomach pain, curled up on a sofa half-watching terrible Christmas films on a movie channel I’d never heard of and will no doubt never see again. I went to bed with a hot water bottle at ten past nine, and woke up at seven o’clock this morning feeling BRILLIANT. It’s quarter to nine and I have already been out for a newspaper and breakfast, made tea for two and solved a problem for my twelve-year-old god-daughter, and before the day is out I shall have been back out to the shops for proper food, recorded a voice demo (technology permitting), dealt with a plumber and a roofer and made – and eaten – dinner* for four. And I’m looking forward to all of it. It’s a shame it’s so grey and gloomy outside – but if it weren’t, the prospect of a sunny day to come wouldn’t be half so exciting.

*Talking of dinner, I made a revolutionary poultry-based discovery last night, which I will share later in a separate post.