So I lived in Manchester for 6 months and for three of them I signed up to three sessions a week with a personal trainer. I walked to work every day – maybe a three mile round trip – and, as it was summer, walked around the city a lot.

Cut to Somerset in autumn and winter: general doldrums about somehow getting jobs that never materialised; wet ground outside and wet stuff falling from the sky; England at its seasonal best. And so I did nothing.

Since arriving in Spain where I am deliberately not hiring a car (although more on that later) so I have to get to know the streets and how well connected the places I stay in are, and I am walking upwards of seven miles per day.

And it ain’t flat

Yesterday I hit the wall which was, I think, partly because I took my rucksack (the maximum Easyjet size) to Lidl about five miles away and filled it up. I then thought, I know, let’s go into Nerja for another wander and get the bus back to Frigiliana. By the time I got here I was knackered. And I live near the top of town; quite a long way in distance and height from the bus stop.

Today I found it difficult to get my trousers on and fell in a heap laughing at how unfit I am. I assume it gets easier.

And I’m going to hire that car so I can do a big trip to the shops without killing myself again.