Having planned to return to the UK tomorrow for my summer holiday, I have had to cancel it all and stay resting. I can’t open the refrigerator door without experiencing pain and have been advised that carrying or lifting anything is out of the question until the ribs heal (I’m making an exception for wine glasses, but even they are not plain sailing).

I know that, for some inexplicable reason, you have accidentally stumbled upon me in this bizarre virtual world that we all now inhabit. But I did not invite you, so I can only imagine that, given your attire, I must have Googled something along the lines of “tarty, cheap, slutty, skimpy underwear” in the past and, strangely, that led somebody to believe we were a perfect match.