Weeartyfarty was insistent that I should 'get out'. Indeed, that was a good idea. Mr A gave me a lift to the Hideout Cafe, and then I got the hang of taxis to find my own way back. That wasn't the end of the excitement for the day, with somewhat irritating discussions with the GP surgery over lunchtime and then a visit from OT who thought I was looking much better than last Saturday. Indeed. It would be a bit bad if I weren't.
That's the first week I've ever had off work because I wasn't up to it in my 33 year employment history (assuming you don't count maternity leave).