SOMETIMES, in the midst of all the hurly and indeed the burly of these pre-Christmas days, I decide that I’m going to have a reading, writing, contemplating and strolling day.

It’s the equivalent of an ‘out of office’ email, I guess, or one of those notes on a shop door that says ‘back in five mins’.

I realise, of course, that I’m lucky enough to be able to do this because I’m at the stage in my life when I can pick and choose what I do and many people would love this luxury but they can’t afford it in so many ways.

Maybe, then, you could have a reading, writing, contemplating, strolling hour. Or half an hour. Or five minutes. It’s all good for your mental and physical health, and that’s a fact.

The enjoyment is part of the whole package, too: I like reading and writing and contemplating and strolling, which makes it much easier to do all four.

When I run creative writing workshops, people will sometimes say to me that they’re going to have a go at writing for a couple of hours every day but of course that’s not always possible, so I say to them: ‘Have a writing ten minutes. Have a writing minute’. In other words, maybe it’s not the quantity of the time you’re spending, but the quality.

So the words you’re reading now are the writing part of my day. I’ve already done some strolling and a little bit of contemplating and the reading will come later.

For me, the strolling comes first and sometimes last. I get up early and get dressed and I’m off on my early stroll by about 5.20am. Again, I know that this isn’t everybody’s favourite time of day but it’s certainly mine.

There’s a sense of freshness and anticipation about the morning and a sense of purpose. People are waiting for the bus and the roads are surprisingly busy.

Folks are out walking dogs or just, like me, strolling. I see the paper delivery van passing, and the bread van and the huge trucks that are supplying the supermarkets.

There’s a sense that the day is getting into gear and my stroll is a tiny part of that daily reawakening.

As I stroll, I listen to music on my headphones so maybe I should have added listening to the list of things I’m doing.

Usually on my early stroll, I listen to jazz of all kinds downloaded from a daily show on Radio 3 called Round Midnight. Somehow the cool music makes wandering through Darfield seem glamorous and artistic, and of course it is. Stop laughing at the back.

I get home and then the writing part of the day begins.

My mind is refreshed and ready for the task of putting words on paper and I find that if I don’t write every day, I start to think that I can’t do it any more, that I’m like a pianist who has to practise every day or the shine goes away from the notes through neglect and misuse.

So I’m writing this column and I really enjoy writing things that I have to get done for a deadline; if I don’t write this there’ll be empty space in the Chronicle so it has to be done.

And it’s good for my brain, and it’s maybe not so good for my posture as I lean over the laptop like the organist in Phantom of the Opera.

So that means that so far today I’ve done some strolling and I’m doing some writing. The contemplating is, in some ways, part of the writing as I contemplate each sentence and rewrite it a couple of times, but I’m looking forward to a longer period of contemplation later.

It’ll involve sitting on the settee and staring into space. If I’m lucky and I’m not too busy later, I’ll get three strolls in today, too: an afternoon one and an evening. I’ll listen to more music and maybe a radio play.

It’ll soon be time for the reading. I subscribe to loads of magazines and one of my favourites is a quarterly about Scottish football called Nutmeg.

The latest issue has just arrived and I’ll be devouring it later. I see there’s a long piece on matchday programmes that I know I’ll enjoy.

Writing, reading, strolling, contemplating: they work for me.

Try it, or try your own formula. And have a great Christmas!