I had expected this weekend to be harder work. I had expected to wake up in Newcastle, do some more work on the kitchen or garden, and then have to head back to Reading late and tired.

As it was, I woke up at my friend's place in Leeds. I wasn't particuarly tired, nor was I full of beans. There was time to go out to buy a tool to unblock the recently blocked toilet (not my fault... okay a little my fault) and then use it. His protestations that it was being used incorrectly were converted to general disgust about the pumping of waste water, but the effectiveness of this procedure was not disputed. Blockage gone.

I drove back to Reading and managed to spend some time in the house clearing stuff away. I totally emptied the sitting room, which would be the subject of some plastering in only a few hours. I filled the garage with my tools and then I was done.

Surely, I thought, I'd be prepared for the week ahead. I hadn't quite figured on the onset of cold, signalled already by the tender throat, which can sometimes be voice strain, or can sometimes be my body's first sign that the immune system is under attack.