And for my next trick . . .

Have been living at Mike and Skye's for two days and have already managed to give Skye and myself mild food poisoning.

Also, I was fortunate enough to experience a trip to the emergency room. Katie decided that enough was enough with my swollen foot and made me go. I did some waiting. Some reading. Some admiring of the public toilets. And then some x-raying. And some explaining of how I hurt my foot in the first place:

'So this guy was being a wrestler and picked me up and body-slammed me onto an airbed and on the way down I hit my foot on the table . . .'

The problem was, of course, that the nurses just stopped listening after I said 'wrestler' and concluded that along with my charming accent, I was a charming lunatic. Fair call, really.
But, foot is not broken, just really, really bruised and swollen so any plans I might have had to get round to doing some exercise have had to be shelved and now I spend all my spare time eating chocolate and reading. So very little's changed.