I crashed yesterday. It's the second time I've crashed in five weeks at Uni.

The first time was on my day without classses in the first week. I'd done four days straight of cycling, and just couldn't get up the next day for volunteering at the Mens' Recource Centre. They are always very careful to emphasise how valued a part of the team I am there, but I'm under no illusions that I'm an indispensible part of the team, so no big deal. I put it all down to going a bit too hard a bit too soon on the bike.

Yesterday I had no such excuse. I haven't been on the bike in weeks. Barely even gone for a walk further than the Bowling Club. The night before, my friend Paul called as I was winding down for bed. We talked for a bit too long, then I had to wind down all over again, and probably had a glass or two more wine-based product than I otherwise would have. However I had the requisite number of hours sleep, and had not had enough to drink to be hungover, so - cursing Paul mildly for my sleepiness but not thinking anything more of it - I drove off to class. I was more tired than I was comfortable being behind the wheel, but confident that a bit off caffeine would soon put things right. I was wrong about that.

Ever feel so tired that you feel sick? Again, I stress not hungover; I know what that condition feels like and have become expert at titrating my alcohol dosage to avoid it. My body was just refusing to work, and was begging for a nice lie down on the floor, and was prepared to make me vomit if necessary to get it. I managed to make it to the end of my last class for the day, and abandoned any plans  for further study in favour of the perilous drive home. There should be a breath test for exhaustion.

I am worried that I may have found how much exertion my 42-year-old body can take, and that it's really not very much at all.

Okay. Take stock. Yes, I know regular consumption of not quite enough alcohol to cause a hangover is bad in the long term. And yes, I have been working from home and not exercising for a decade.

But on the other hand, what I have been asking of my body (after that first week at least), isn't any more demanding than the average clerical job. I've known more than enough fat, florid, middle-aged, middle-rung executives who weren't in the habit of passing out mid-meeting to know that I should be able to cope with this.

I suppose all I can do is keep an eye on the situation and mention it to my GP. Make an appointment ahead of schedule if it happens again.

I could stop drinking althogether. Ah, now that's the spirit! Nothing like a bit of absurd levity to lighten the mood. Cheers! [*slurp*]