Tonight I didn’t go swimming, forgoing exercise for some preliminary birthday drinks, and then going home to lie on the sofa and eat toast spread with Marmite. (I woke up early again today and rushed to the office, so I felt it was time for a bit of a rest.)
I noodled around on the Xbox for a bit, watched an episode of Au Service De La France, a French espionage comedy on Netflix, read a book and drove a car around in a virtual facsimile of the Lake District. All of these non-achievenents also an achievement, I suppose.
My knee feels very much less sore today, as does my thumb. My left leg now aches, perhaps as a result of the extra work it’s doing to pick up the right leg’s slack. One day all this will even up, I’m sure.
Now, brain stuffed full of cotton wool, very much ready for bed, I hopefully drift away to sleep. Tra la la la and all of that.