Few and far between

I woke up at home this morning.

And I woke up knowing that I had a whole day at home, work to do, but at my own pace. I rolled over and slept a bit more.

I sat by the window, looked at the river and drank some coffee. I enjoyed the early morning sun on my face, and the peace and quiet.

Work came and went. Spreadsheets, forecasts, business plans. Using my brain and taking my time to do good, unhurried work, I remembered why I like my job.

I ate lunch next door at the Quai des Arts. Fish with a herby crust, bulgar wheat and aubergines. Washed down with San Pel. Simple food, but perfect.

I walked to the 'maison de la presse' and bought a copy of yesterday's Guardian.

Back at home I wrote some editorial copy for a Belgian magazine and went through my emails.

I put some music on, made dinner, and washed it down with a glass of red. I read the paper and listened to Rufus.

The end of the day saw me sitting where I started - at the window, in the fresh air looking out over the river. Glass of wine in hand, I realise that I am lucky.

These days don't happen so often - usually it's all about rushing and airports and deadlines and negotiations and conflict.

It's been such a luxury of a day. I go to bed a happy, relaxed, contented man.