It’s getting to something when I’ve been told to have 10 days off work due to “exhaustion” - the doctor’s words, not mine.

Granted, I’m very, very, very tired and I know I’ve been overdoing things badly this year, but even so I feel pretty guilty about not being in at work when I’m not dying with flu or hacking up a lung, or some such similar equivalent.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the marking of GCSE scripts has finally befuddled my brain. I’ve indulged some embarrassing purchasing following a brief liaison between Amazon, my credit card and a gin and tonic and am currently watching Dawson’s Creek. The entire boxed set.

Then Social Services found out… Not about my oddities of viewing habits, although no doubt that would seriously alarm them, especially as Dawson et al are sharing shelf space with the Tardis on one side and Wisteria Lane on the other, but about me being off work sick.

Suddenly respite has leapt into action and they’ve hiked the support we get on alternate weekends to give us four night’s sleep a month instead of two. Our social worker is coming out to see us in 10 days and everyone is making lots of positive noises in our direction. Looks like we might be able to manage the odd overnight away in places from this summer.

So some of you can expect a mass invasion at some point! It’s all bizarrely exciting!