By rights I should be a waif. I barely eat a morsel and am on first name terms with each and every personal trainer at the gym. Admittedly this is mostly in my dreams. OK, totally in my dreams. Instead I am sturdy. Which is possibly a better physique for digging out agapanthus on the most humid, treacle-wading, head-thumpingly oppressive day of the year. If not the century. Definitely in living memory and since records began.
It has left me feeling a little drained.