Ah, the sunshine! In a strange state between being ill and well, my mind is alert but the body just says 'No!' to anything strenuous, beyond wandering to the bakers or the Post Office.
I can't be bothered to read and even the TV shows I normally watch (wall to wall blood and detectives) are utterly unappealing.
I found the ideal pastime for the recuperating patient: sitting on a bench in the yard, I sifted through the earth in the big pot that grew courgettes last summer with my fingers, picking out the little spherical bobbly orange snail eggs and lining them up to tempt next door's birds in to the garden.
One by one. I was too lazy even to count them: they clicked as they bounced on to the concrete, and when I got bored after half an hour or so, I stopped.