The pleasures, er dangers of indolence

You know the theory that workaholics are the way they are because, deep down, they’re lazy? Well, I think it’s true. Since arriving in Provence I’ve done, well… precisely nothing except sit around, read, go to cafes and swim. True, I did tackle the cliff path yesterday, but that was mainly to get to the village without using the car. And even then I spent a few hours sitting around, people-watching and reading. And taking the odd photograph, as of this lovely little chap enjoying a fountain.

My conclusion? The worst thing that could happen to me would be winning the Lottery.