well read

Having recently commented that afternoons of reading books were to be a thing of the past, I was almost grateful on Friday when I came down with a cold. Once I'd got a three and a half hour meeting out of the way and dragged my sorry self home, all that I could face was sitting on the sofa, reading books for the rest of the weekend. Joy of joys.

There's nothing that quite beats sitting curled up, head rested on soft pillows, cats warming your feet with your nose in a book whilst the rain pours down outside. Ok, I was surrounded with boxes of tissues, cough medicine and painkillers, but I didn't have to move.

In fact, I didn't even have to cook as James came over on Saturday evening, with a Sainsbury's bag full of goodies and promptly made us a gorgeous pizza each. We discussed New Years Eve parties and the terrible script writing on a certain BBC drama. I drank a glass of warmed red wine, medicinal of course, and I managed to keep talking until gone eleven when I finally started wilting and crawled off to bed.

Of course, lovely as it was to spend the weekend engrossed in Rebus novels, dreaming of Edinburgh and the highlands, it meant that all those things I was supposed to be doing are still not done. They now hang over me, constant reminders, and although I was ill and so therefore couldn't possibly have done them, I feel guilt as if I've skivved off. It will be a busy week of catching up, especially as today is the first day of term. This evening though, I'm off to Narnia with Katharine. Needs must.