I've just realised how sad that title might seem, if it were figurative and referring to the state of my social life, but it's not - because this has been one superbly social summer. No, it's actually rather literal - I can sit on my own. Big deal, you might scoff, you've always sat unaided; and, if by 'unaided' you mean strapped into a chair with a very supportive backrest and seat, you'd be right.
I don't mean that, though; I mean sitting on a dining chair with my arm resting on the table next to me and feeling perfectly safe.
I mean conquering sciatica, startle and spasm and catching a glimpse of that little girl who used to zoom about the house on a wheely office chair.
I mean the suggestion that sciatica might merely be a sign that you need to take things a little slower and not something to be scared about.
I mean letting your body catch up with your mind and learning that you have to sit before you stand.
I mean going from having people sitting on your lap to being brave enough to sit on theirs.
I can sit safely and independently again and there's lots of fun to be had.