Whatever that means
It was probably the recuperative long lie but my legs feel less achy than I’d expected. I had visions of being stiff, walking like John Wayne and generally grumbling and moaning all day. But no. Mind, I was happy to just potter around the garden build more of the new log shed, nipping round to a neighbour’s to steal a couple of pallets, popping down to the beach to fill a big bag with seaweed (to line the bottom of the new raised beds. It’ll rot down nicely. I’m told by his daughter than the man whose garden we’ve ruined covered his beds with seaweed every year), and pop along to the pub for a few pints with friends.