I had to come back early from Wales because my right arm has gone wrong. I noticed this on the way there, around Bristol (where the overhead signs, incidentally, said 'SALT SPREADING' - can that be right?). It's a pulled muscle near the top, which permits most movements, except one particular one. Unfortunately, the movement in question is needed, though not crucial, for driving, so - having managed to cut the grass, a large part of my reason for going down in the first place (see tomorrow) - I decided this morning that it'd be prudent to cut my losses as well and come home while I could still drive. (It also affects my usual drinking mechanics, I've discovered, but I've found a way round that.)
Anyway, I managed the drive home. I don't know whether or not this was due to ibuprofin, nor whether the condition is improving - the trouble with painkillers is that they kill pain, which is your body's way of telling you "best not to do that at the moment".
But it was just as well I did, because when I walked in the house the first thing I noticed was that there was no electricity. Just as well I did, because the freezers were still frozen (though I've chucked out some prawns just in case), so it can't have been off for long. If I'd stayed for another 48 hours as I'd planned ... Imagine!
Turns out the Sky+ box has decided, after eight years, to give up (which tripped the mains circuit breaker! I mean, really!). It might just be the fuse in the plug, of course, but I can't check that as yet because to do so requires energetic use of my right arm. I'll just have to do without TV for a few days. Boo hoo.