I've hardly moved out of the house this week in an effort to shake off my cold. It's been a good opportunity to get stuck into reading some of the books that came my way at Christmas. For a short time I'll be able to talk knowledgeably about Tom Morris's role in the development of golf, an 18th century French expedition to the Amazon to establish the shape of the earth, and the banking meltdown as seen in fictional form.

But that knowledge will sink more or less slowly and more or less completely into the pulped fiction and non-fiction sludge from the hundreds of other books I've read and forgotten that constitutes my cultural capital.

There has also been some excellent snooker to watch, culminating today in an all Chinese final between the self-confident and articulate Marco Fu and the shy and tongue-tied Ding Junhui. I am looking forward to that as the second best treat of the week.

Top treat was Connor's moist and tasty homemade gingerbread.

And the cold? The treatment has been successful. I shall be fit for normal life tomorrow.