I had to go into hospital for a double hernia operation and plan to do lots of walking afterwards to regain my fitness and help the healing process. I’d been waiting many months for them to book me in. I’ve never had to have an operation before and I’m slightly nervous. I chat to some old geezers who are also waiting and we all have a bit of gallows humour about falling to bits and what can go wrong.

After the op I have to take it easy but am keen to get walking as soon as possible. The regular painkillers help. And I have to walk slowly. The operation was two days ago and I have three scars on my abdomen. If I draw a line through them they appear to represent London, Peterborough Services and Lincoln – all major stopping points on the old Roman Road, Ermine Street. I’m finally walking properly. It feels good but I need to take it easy. I have a big stick to help me walk and I look a bit like a hobbling druid with bad dress sense.

I go up to the Whittington Hospital so they can check the scars. Everything is fine. I look down over the city and enjoy the melancholy drizzle of a day. On the way back I have a pint of beer, which seems to work badly with the pain killers.

After that I go for walks every day – aimless, slightly frantic but slow. At the garden centre in Stoke Newington I rummage around in the herb section. Everything looks shagged out, like I feel. At the back I see some delicate little leaves and pick out a small pot with a Lovage plant in it. Walking back it feels good to have bought something.