Would a year in bed work?

I woke up not with a spring in my step as would be preferable at the beginning of a new year, but with a feeling of trepidation at what lay ahead.

I feel guilty saying this, as I haven’t got any overwhelming problems - my home has not been flooded, I have not got a serious illness and my family are all fit and well.

But as the years go by and your routine remains the same - work, home, work, home - you become a little jaded. I spend my life catering for my family’s every need and not getting much in the way of appreciation - there comes a time when something’s got to give.

I recently read Sue Townsend’s novel ‘The Woman Who went To Bed for a Year’, and felt tempted to try it myself. What would happen, I wondered, if I stayed under my duvet for the next 12 months.

My boss would raise an eyebrow, and my colleagues would probably feel a little resentful, but I wouldn’t necessarily lose my job. With a laptop, I can work anywhere with internet access. In fact, I’ve worked from my bed a few times, when I’ve been unable to travel to work. I’ve written articles and even interviewed people while propped up on pillows.

And with a mobile phone I wouldn’t starve. With a quick call I could be eating Indian, Italian or Thai. Too many takeaways could lead to a permanent bedridden state and a role in a Channel 5 documentary, but there are dozens of other, healthier options. I haven’t ever been tempted to grocery shop online, preferring to inhabit the real world, but, confined to my bed, the arrival of a van load of goodies once a week would be something to look forward to.

How a year in bed might work...

It won’t pretend it will be easy. I like a good sleep-in, but a year is pushing it. Thankfully, there’s a nice enough view from my bed and some well-stocked bookshelves within reach. The year would offer an opportunity to catch up on all the books I’d like to read but haven’t had time to open. And for company, you can’t improve on a cat.

Of course I’d have to nip to the toilet, and the idea of bed baths doesn’t thrill me, but the flannel-down could double up as exercise.

The main aim of the year in bed - to make my husband and children appreciate my efforts - would manifest itself through my not being around for washing, ironing, cooking (although I admit, my husband does most of this), cleaning and chauffeuring duties.

Would it work? I really can’t say. Something tells me they would just grumble and get on with it and not give me, upstairs in my boudoir, a second thought (or even a cup of tea).