On Monday I was off to Essex, trains to London then a walk through the autumn sun from Paddington to Liverpool Street, pausing part-way for lunch with R, then again to sit outside Exmouth Market’s least gentrified cafe with a coffee. Wonderful.

In the evening, a stroll into town for dinner and pints with D, my oldest friend, followed by the novelty of being able to stroll “home” afterwards.

I’ve done that same Paddington to Liverpool Street walk and more a number of times without ill effects but for the next couple of days my legs really felt the total ten miles of Monday’s walking, as if telling me off for giving up on going for any walks at all over recent months. Lifting weights and riding a bike trainer apparently don’t maintain one’s walking legs.

I spent all the time through to Thursday morning sorting, tidying, and fixing up people and places to take various selections of books.

As usual I was apprehensive about going to the house, unsure if there was much I could do alone (without my sister to confirm any “throw or keep?” decisions), and not looking forward to returning to the old home.

Also as usual, there was far too much to do and by the time Thursday came I didn’t want to leave that place that means so much to me, with so much still to do.

I was only busy for a couple of days really but it was exhausting. So many tiny decisions to make about every single thing, every sheet of paper, every card, every box, bag, cupboard, tin, tub, drawer, shelf…

Progress was made, definite progress proved by a full wheelie bin and a slippery heap of clear recycling sacks, and yet it was nothing: the place looks no different. Well, other than the post-its I stuck on cupboards and drawers to remind us which ones were actually, finally, empty, or at least part-sorted.

Thanks to those of you who got in touch with suggestions for places that might want a collection of decades’ worth of books. Still no luck – seven rejections so far – but I persevere.

§ While I’m thanking, thanks also to those who got in touch about passive-investing-friendly financial advisers. I’ve now used Carbon’s Second Opinion Service a free (!) one-off review of your financial situation and was pleased with it. It helped, of course, that they said I was in broadly good financial shape.

With the caveats I’m not remotely giving financial advice, and I’m only one person who used this one service once, I’d recommend it. It’s fairly high level and it’s mainly going to point out areas where your plans are falling short, rather than offering specific solutions (you can pay for a more detailed solution-y review). But they seem sensible, focused on low costs and broad market-covering investing. (Feel free to say you read about them here, although there’s no benefit to me if you do.)

§ We finished watching season five of Slow Horses which started off slightly unengaging but picked up by the end. The characters seemed to rely heavily on a single trait each which I hadn’t noticed so much in previous seasons, and it didn’t feel like they had much agency – stuff happened and they were swept along in it, either in the right place at the right time or not.

We also finished season three of The Diplomat which continues to be nonsense, but everyone is so committed to it, taking it all so seriously, that once you’ve accepted the characters and situation it’s very easy to be swept along. The final three episodes were good examples of drama that relies on nothing but conversations.

We also finished Educating Yorkshire, a return to the same school as twelve years ago. The idea that the eldest kids back then – which does not seem long ago – are now 28 makes me crumble to dust. As ever with these series I can only marvel at the patience these teachers and staff show. I assume that – as with only nice farmers appearing on This Farming Life – there are less appealing examples but still, it makes for uplifting TV.

I would subscribe to a newsletter or RSS feed or something that only popped up when some classic TV re-appeared on BBC iPlayer. In lieu of that, I noticed somewhere today that 1985’s Edge of Darkness has reappeared there (and is being rebroadcast on BBC FOUR if you’re, I don’t know, over the age of 70).

The Singing Detective popped up there a while back and is still available, and I think this might be “re-mastered” or something in HD? I don’t know how you’d know this stuff is there. No matter how much I’ve used iPlayer over the years its front page is full of stuff I’d never watch. Even if you search for “Dennis Potter”, The Singing Detective is nowhere to be seen.

§ It’s now Sunday and I’ve been exhausted since I returned west. Is this getting old? I mean, yes, my moaning may well be getting old but is this tiredness going to be a recurring feature as the years tick by, or is it just a brief dip?

We spent some of today doing sorting and tidying of our own: the leaky roof of our garage is going to be replaced so it’s time to clear out the decades of tools, paints, boxes, varnishes, ladders, etc. etc. More decisions, although more for Mary than me.

But, still, I’m about done with physical objects. They were a mistake. I may have some misgivings about computers and all they entail but at least you can fit a lifetime of digital ephemera onto an object the size of a thumbnail and dispose of it in one go. Upload me now. So long as my digital legs won’t ache too much.