In sickness and in health

Week three of enforced inactivity as my collarbone slowly heals. The psychological damage of not going out is almost as bad as the physical, and I have become, I was reliably informed whilst having my feet hoovered around this week, moody and irritable. Having passed through the morphine-haze phase, I'm now in that purgatory of being well enough to do some work on my trusty laptop, but not well enough to do much in the way of play. Frustrating doesn't begin to describe it. I can totter short distances before discomfort kicks in, but even Swineham is out of my current range, and as for twitching, I was almost pleased when the long-staying Orphean Warbler eventually did one: every day the pager reported it had popped its pale iris over the parapet rubbed a little salt into the newly acquired 5 inch scar on my shoulder.

That said I just about managed to poke my head outside on a couple of occasions last week, thanks to Claire, taking a break from hoovering around me, and moving herself another step closer to canonisation in the process. She nursed me to the car, buckled me up and drove me around as I squinted into the light. She even carried my camera while I took some test shots from the garden to see if my lens was broken after my fall (it was on my back in a rucksack at the time) - as one wag has suggested, a very pretty tripod. I knew that the 'in sickness and in health' clause would come in handy one day.

Otherwise, the enforced absence from the field with bins and camera has made me realise I'm probably a bit too dependent on it for my relaxation and enjoyment. Even my 10 year old lad can see this, pointing out (perceptively, if somewhat impertinently) that I wouldn't be so miserable if I had more hobbies than birdwatching. My defence - that I'm not so one dimensional, I don't just watch birds, I photograph them, blog about them, draw them and keep lists of them - somehow failed to win the argument...

Some good news at last - lens appears not broken!