Every Friday when I’m at work, someone in my office asks me how I’ll be spending the weekend. I usually say I’ve got nothing on, and that that’s just the way I like it, but that’s not always strictly true. I do a lot of pottering – well, as much pottering as one can do on six wheels rather than two legs. Sometimes it leads me to people, places and plans with purpose. Other times, it lives up to its name, and I’m wandering aimlessly.

Not that that’s necessarily a bad thing – I actually spent a lot of today doing it. It clears the mind. It’s a calming, comforting, familiar routine, and one that requires no effort on my part whatsoever. But every so often, when I’m traipsing round the same shop for the hundredth time, I do wonder: is this something other people do, or is it just proof I need to find another hobby?

As is often the case, I can’t help worrying about what other people think. Every year, I get older and older, and now and again I feel like life is passing me by. Have I got enough to show for it? It can be hard to tell sometimes. Do I get myself worked up for no reason? Possibly. Probably. I don’t know. The jury’s still out…

Mason