Naked, smelly and bleeding, all I wanted from the world was some hot water. But the shower had other ideas

‘Before the cold torrents, my face was a study in anguish and despair’ … (posed by model). Photograph: Thanasis Zovoilis/Getty Images

In times of stress, I attack the garden. And the garden retaliates. After a long day’s toil, working up quite a sweat despite the cold, I was a mess. There was dirt in places dirt had no right to be, and flecks of blood on my arms and face where the brambles had bitten back.

I put my clothes straight into the washing machine. There could be no time for them in the limbo of the dirty basket. Things had gone too far for that. Nor could there be any delay on my getting in the shower, no stopping for a drink or a snack. I was shrouded in a cloud of bad odour, like Pig-Pen in the Peanuts cartoon.