So I’ve had lots of time lately for quiet contemplation, as I watch my thumb turn various shades of green and purple and practise wriggling my fat little sausage fingers.

What started out as an early-morning dog walk on a frosty day ended up as a three-day stint in Bega Hospital having surgery on a broken wrist, which involved a plate and some screws to put it back together. Serves me right for wishing that I didn’t have to go to work that day. My son and his girlfriend were visiting and I would rather have spent the day with them. As it turns out, I did, but not how I’d expected to. Be careful what you wish for, hey? Luckily they were there to drive me up the coast to the hospital, and then look after Tilly and Mr Tibbs for a few days.

I now know that the wooden boardwalk across the lagoon should be avoided on very cold mornings. Little pools of water on the bowed boards can freeze up and become invisible and treacherous patches of ice. When I turned slightly to look at a boat going past in the channel, my feet shot out from under me and I slammed down on the wooden boards, wrist first. Oh well, at least it wasn’t my head that made contact. That could have been really nasty!

Anyway, after being well looked after at Bega, now I’m home and taking it easy for a while. Tilly is happy to be my bed-rest buddy – there’s lots of time for pats and tummy rubs too!

But is this it for major challenges now, 2020? Bushfires, a demanding job, a global pandemic, and now a busted wrist – I think that will do me for the time being, thanks very much!