Woke up with a banging brain and an ache in my hip that would suggest I took a tumble overnight. Not to my knowledge, but I shouldn’t be hungover, either.

Perhaps it’s the weather. Some excess electricity in the air. I feel rather breakable but I know it wasn’t the cider.

Aimée walked to work. I have been let off driving duties while I try and get the knit out of my hip.

But it’s raining. There’s a sound coming from the conservatory roof that could be mistaken for applause.

This is the Loophole – the caveat that tells me I can’t let her walk home in this.

She’ll catch the ‘flu, or piles. The hell with early evening telly. I’m driving up the road in diagonal rain. Not right now, of course. I’m typing now.