I got back from my weekend in Glasgow in severe pain. My legs were stiff and aching, my ankles and knees especially badly bruised, my neck was sore and could barely move, my back felt like it had been through a mangle, and my lungs felt as if I had run a marathon while chain-smoking.

Ceilidhs are great fun but they fairly take it out of you. I've not actually been to one that good for a long time, and I really enjoyed it. Playing football in the park the day after may have exacerbated my pain, but never mind. No pain, no gain. Supposedly.

Tonight has been an evening of nursing wounds in a nice hot bath, and buying my plane tickets for London, for when I go to Australia. The trip is coming together now – insurance is the next major thing to sort out.

Then I just need to find my passport.