A writer friend of mine is a very good cook. Food, she says, is a great distraction. She might just be sitting down at her desk all ready to tackle a new chapter, when suddenly she remembers that biscuit recipe snipped out of last week’s Sunday paper. All at once it seems the time to make it is now and that the new chapter can only be begun when those biscuits are on the cooling rack.

As a serial procrastinator I know how non-urgent tasks can suddenly become imperative. Reorganising cupboards and drawers, shining shoes, giving the dog a haircut and – indeed – baking are in my arsenal of avoiding the “now” so it is always fascinating to hear what other time-degenerates get up to in the spare time they do not have.