Manual labour of course is viewed as inherently unpleasant by many. Simone Weil observed, for example, that: “Manual labour is either a degrading servitude for the soul or a sacrifice.” (She views sacrifice as positive, but it is a sacrifice because labour is unpleasant.)

But the theory that manual labour is the ideal complement to intellectual endeavour is old as well. Thoreau crowed over it, bragging that he had “more leisure than any of my brethren for study and literature”. But not only does labour make room for more intellectual endeavour, it also improves the quality of it.

Steady labour with the hands, which engrosses the attention also, is unquestionably the best method of removing palaver and sentimentality out of one’s style, both of speaking and writing.

— Thoreau, “A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers”.

Perhaps the improvement in the quality of one’s intellectual output is because manual labour fulfils the otherwise restless motor function in one’s brain. A friend of mine enjoys reading while he plays the piano because the need to be moving can be fulfilled with his hands, while his mind is occupied with the book. (He also claims that he introduces different themes on the piano for the different characters, and that he changes the mood of the piece based on the tone of the book, but there one will have to judge for oneself.)

Certainly last evening, as I mowed the lawn under a very pleasant sky, I found myself besieged by ideas in unusual superfluity.

Perhaps, in the tradition of the ironing room, educational institutions would be well served to establish a communal lawn to be mown by any student in need of special insight.