At the end of last week, I was meant to take a flight with my wife to California, but I suffered an anxiety attack on boarding and, after some discussion with the cabin crew, chose to leave the aeroplane. So I'm the only person in the world who has attempted to go on holiday, found that too stressful and gone back to work instead. Yesterday I attended my most tragic birthday celebration ever, over Skype with the in-laws that I was meant to be visiting.

I had just been getting used to my unexpected solitude for the week when my parents contacted me to inform me that the cat drank antifreeze and died.

So it's not going that well.