Thud, the sound of a ball being kicked against the wall drifts up to me, as I lie in the dormitory.

Me sick but strangely content to lie abed while my fellow pupils play below. The room is peaceful save for the distant noise of the ball. A gentle breze stirs the curtains. I read, perhaps Palgrave’s Golden Treasury.

Oh the tranquillity, would that I could be ill more often.