It could have been the surroundings which did it. The proximity of the sea, the only barrier being the impressive dunes just at the rear of the property, always brings a sense of calm to my over-sensitive self.

It could have simply been the fact that I wasn't at work and could enjoy waking up slowly and naturally, at my own pace, snuggling up to Big and dozing happily in the warmth of his arms before deciding how to spend our day over a leisurely breakfast.

It could equally have been the fact that, in the space of seven days, I only used the car twice, blessed as we were with a useful train station within walking distance. Anyone who has spent any time with me in a car will know that, especially on country lanes, things can get fraught when I'm behind the wheel as I do battle with the selfishness, arrogance and lack of consideration which seems to be a feature of our British roads.

But what I must consider is that the sense of wellbeing and lack of anxiety I felt last week could have been due to the total lack of anything remotely interwebular. I didn't so much as glance at the cut-throat world we call Blogland, that place which fuels all my inadequacies and in which I invest so much time and energy.

In truth, it was probably a combination of all these things. But last week was the final proof for me that my blogging balance has toppled firmly into the negative and, as such, there is only one possible solution.

It will be hard; desperately so. But I must, and will, stop blogging.