If you're reading these words, it means I managed to publish the second version of this report. Version one had just been finished on a sweltering tube when, moments after I typed the closing line, "No drama encountered otherwise," the entire text was swallowed by a wrong slip of a finger on my phone screen, never to be retrieved again. Thanks to the unexpected wonders of 21st-century technology, I was gifted the opportunity to rewrite history from scratch and practise mindfulness in the face of frustration.

It wasn't an easy week for Ms F, who suffered from the hot temperatures to the point that she had to cancel her medical appointment. She also found it difficult to get a good night's sleep, so she was pleased to hear that I'd be coming slightly later than originally planned, giving her a little more time to rest during the day.

I happened to be off work that week, showing my family around London, and a 40-minute midday shopping mission was a perfect break from crowded touristy places. For Ms F, however, hearing that I'd be coming before 6 pm on a weekday caused a little confusion.

To provide some relief from the heat, I was asked to buy a six-pack of Buxton still water and a little treat: a bottle of refreshing ginger beer. One more summer delight came in the form of a healthy snack.

"Last time Louis brought me some delicious strawberries. They're called No. 1. You'll know when you've found them because they cost four pounds."

And off I went for a successful shop, with all the items located without difficulty. The only event worth mentioning was the outer packaging of the Buxton water dramatically ripping apart just as I left the till, allowing two of the bottles to attempt an escape.

Now, this is the part of my original story v1.0 where I wrote "No drama encountered otherwise", but I feel that if I finish it on this note, something ominous will happen again, and I'll end up writing the third version of this story.

So let's close it with me going to the British Museum to look for my not-so-distant ancestors - and I don't mean the ancient residents of the sarcophagi here! My family and I glanced through the Greek excavations before heading off. As entertaining as they looked, the figurines of ancient pigs didn't feel relevant for the closure of this story either, as Ms F is much less of a fan of pork than she is of fish.

Another thing I haven't mentioned in my original report was that, on the way back west, under very rare circumstances, I happened to bump into one of Mission Control's stars while they were on a break. I think that truly closes the loop of this story.

Hopefully, this is a worthy ending, and all the ancient and modern gods of fate, together with the muses of GoodGym report writing, will allow me to publish this version and won't turn it into a Sisyphean task.