With the decorator coming round a second day, Jools said she'd stay behind, meaning I could head out for the whole morning, if I wanted.
If I wanted.
My knee said otherwise.
Truth is, I've not been using the ice pack so much as I should, wrongly believing I was over the worse. And so walking around the city, even for a short while, became painful.
Thing about Canterbury at half eight on a Sunday morning is that it is quiet.
Very quiet.
I parked near Westgate, then walked round it to get shots of the riverside garden, and over the bridge to my target: the new mural depicting two success stories in nature conservation: The Heath Fritillary and the White Spot Sable moth, the mural having only been completed a few days ago.
That done, I walked up St Peter's Street towards the Pilgrims Hospital, amazed that there were so few people about.
I walked round past the new Marlowe Theatre and back to the car, by which point my knee was asking what the heck did I think I was doing.
From there I drove to the inner ring road, then out over the A2 to Thannington and out along the Stour Valley.
The road follows both the river and railway line to Ashford, so I cruise along until it was time to turn off and head up the wooded downs at Challock, then down the narrow dead end lane the two miles to the church.
I saw more people down this lane than I did in the city, partly explained that there was a service to be held in the church.
I wasn't here for that, but to look for a rare, for Kent, plant: Toothwort.
It used to grow in a small wood beside the church, until someone cut down half the trees and allowed light in that killed off the toothwort and most of the bluebells.
I hoped in the five years since I was last here, it might have recovered.
But sadly not.
The cleared area has been left to scrub over, and now brambles and nettles are thriving where there was a small wood.
I did go and look round the trunks of the few remaining trees, but no toothwort, and just one (hybrid) bluebell. Lots of Townhall Clock plants, though.
As the small congregation gather, I drive the other way, creating traffic problems on the narrow lane. But I make it back to the main road, and then to Ashford, where a young lady in a small Citroen nearly runs into me after she failed to give way at a roundabout, then fail to indicate at the following roundabout or wave an apology at my angry honking horn.
I turn onto the M20, and cruise back to the coast, going down Old Folkestone Road as I was going to call into Little Farthingloe Farm for some potatoes and bread, but it was closed, apparently permanently.
So, back to Tesco it was, and a quick run round with the scanner and to the check outs and home before the shop got too manic.
So, travel and stuff done, I have a brew and make us breakfast, while the guys finish off the little bedroom, now all over white and looking quite different. No shots yet, as the carpet needs doing, but it looks splendid with new curtains.
At midday there was the Old Firm Derby, which ended 3-3, and that was followed by an equally made Man Utd v Liverpool game that ended 2-2. Not high on quality finishing, but compelling.
And because of the train strike on Monday, there was an evening game, Spurs v Forest which produced four more goals, even if I was all footballed out by eight.
Phew.
