a) toning my middle aged thighs
b) thinking through plot problems and character conundrums.
I set off at a brisk pace with the very best of intentions but somehow it never quite happens...
Today it was the theatrical moon and an indignant Robin that drew my attention away from the plot problem in question, yesterday it was a magnificent moth and a wasp locked in a frenzied battle to the death. I guess I just have to accept the fact that at 43 I'm still at heart a puddle stirrer and that plotting and planning comes far easier when I'm focused on monotonous household chores such as ironing and scrubbing the bath.
However, there is a definite irony attached to my morning meanderings. More often than not I arrive at the day job all jangled up having thought through nothing and then have to spend the next six hours imploring children to focus, pay attention and sit up straight. If only they knew!