You know how it is, you're teetering on the brink of collapse, take a large dose of strong painkillers prescribed by the doctor, that disguise the full extent of the problem, feel considerably better, look out of the window at a sunkissed winter road, don a woolly hat, driving jacket, gloves and looking like Scott of the Antarctic make your way to the Morgan garage.
More to the point I just had to go to the car to check that I could still get in and out of the thing, smitten as I am by a rather acute dose of sciatica. God knows what caused it, although I suppose it's a fair bet that the damage was inflicted when removing a rather large Robinia tree from our garden and assisting in the severe pruning of a very large Blackthorn tree at my sister-in-law's property.
It's very true that age is just a number and you are as young as you feel, but the fact is, that satisfying and reassuring as those statements are, the old body lets you know all too easily, when you are clocking on a bit, that you can't do just what you could in your thirties or forties!
The good news is that I was able to drag the poor, wracked, disease ridden body into the car, had a splendid drive out into the country and perhaps more importantly was able to ease the body out again!
So I am clearly well on the way to a full recovery, and ghastly thoughts of maybe having to throw in the towel at the dealers and offer the car for sale, on the basis that access to the driving compartment was alas impossible, have now been erased from my mind.