I am immensely grateful to my quite brilliant husband for facilitating this. He has taken over my responsibilities admirably (indeed better than me, which is always disconcerting), and looked after me in my bed; all while executing a normal day’s work. While working from home, he has managed to supervise breakfast, ready the children, take them to school, pick them up again, and ferry our own plus 2 more 5 year olds to a soft play party and home again. Plus furnish me with food and water while I fester in my pit all day. Now if I had some sort of debilitating illness then it would kind of be expected… But to do all that just so that I can write a semi-amusing paragraph for my blog? Most people would have probably given me a brisk ‘f*** off’. Dave just shakes his head at the ridiculousness of his existence, and gets on with it.

Actually it was the children who brought me the breakfast. They were quite excited about it. In they trooped, armed variously with a cup of tea, a bowl of cereal and a cup of milk to pour on it. In return I have promised that on their 10th birthdays I will bring them their breakfast in bed. That seems far enough away that they may have mastered eating a breakfast without coating themselves and everything in a 2 metre radius with it.

I had a fairly productive morning doing some online chores, practicing the guitar, and reading a book. All very nice!

By lunch time though I was getting a bit stiff. And smelly. It had begun being gloriously decadent and relaxing and lazy. By 3pm it had become a little bit sweaty and unpleasant. I literally only got up to go to the toilet. I was unwashed, and unbrushed. Disgusting.

By 6pm I thought I could call the day done. I really couldn’t justify loafing idly any longer, once the children came home from their party. Also I was hungry, and I didn’t think calling for dinner in bed would go down at all well!

It is probably quite restorative, to do literally nothing for a day. But I had better not make a habit of it.