Alasdair wanted to spend a morning birdwatching in Central Park, and who am I to disappoint him. I, though, cannot pretend to be a keen birdwatcher. So instead, I spend a relaxing morning sitting on a bench in Shakespeare Garden reading my book. I so rarely get to go somewhere to deliberately read; it’s always just on the train or in bed or snatching a moment somewhere. To take advantage of somewhere like Central Park, with I’m sure dozens of comparative idylls to sit back and read in, is such a base pleasure to have.