I have had a spectacularly stupid day, so much so that I just emailed my boss to say I was writing off today and was going to try again with Tuesday tomorrow.
Took himself up to a secure field today for 8am. Followed the signs down the track, missed the turnoff, tried to reverse back the few metres I thought it was, got stuck on the verge which turned out to be a short, steep bank. Absolutely immovable. Walked round to give Bill 20 minutes in the field, mostly ignored by me and chasing swallows, while I rang the RAC, who told me 12 noon and booked me a taxi back from the dog field for 9:30am (not their fault, no bloody taxis to be had round here). So we walked back 45 minutes home instead (luckily I had some water and the pavement was in the shade).
RAC booked us a cab back out at 2:30pm (I couldn't get a sitter and couldn't leave Bill for an unspecified length of time so he had to come) but they had another job and finally made it out at 3:30 - luckily the lovely people at dog field had noticed the abandoned car and rung to check on us (I told them if we couldn't move it, they could use it as a planter), and let us stay in their extremely hot portakabin with their very friendly retriever pup for five sweaty minutes before I decided to take Bill for a walk in the sunshine. He had a marvellous time exploring the overgrown lane between the two empty dog paddocks and is going to be very upset if I take him back and make him train.
The RAC eventually pulled us out and it seems no harm was done apart from to my pride and productivity. But Bill has been (a) too excited to poo and (b) convinced there's something living under our floorboards downstairs all day, and as the drains in the street were cleaned yesterday I'm worried he might be right.
So it's 4:30pm, I've done no work all day, and I'm in a darkened room upstairs with the fan on, trying to get him to nap and posting on Mumsnet. On balance I reckon today is a dead loss and I can faff around with a clear conscience.