Did I feel refreshed asked my mother as we spoke on the ritual Sunday night phone call home?
I pondered the question for a split second.
It wasn't actually the best time to pose it. Yes, I was at the end of a two week break and felt better for it.
But I was suffering from the 48-hour sickness bug which has been going the rounds.
All my work colleagues had been hit and I thought I had escaped. But no. Out of the blue, starting on the Friday night, it gets me.
Mother, as mothers do, offered her sympathy.
But, otherwise, did I feel refreshed?
I thought of those surveys on stress at work which I get sent - all of which claim it is a growing problem and particularly bad in Britain. And, rightly, all tell you that you must take your annual holiday entitlement or you will be no good to man nor beast.
For me, unpaid overtime is a way of life. Consequently holidays are a necessity.
I had more or less deliberately decided to have a do-nothing first week. I had vaguely toyed with seeing my brother who is now living in Dublin, but couldn't summon up the enthusiasm.
Week two was to be taken up with the usual tour of mother on the Wirral and father-in-law in Harrogate.
Had I thought it through better I should have done the whole thing in reverse.
The trouble is that, as with many families, my wife has struggled to get on with my mother down the years and more than a day of her father starts sending me potty.
So it's not exactly a stress-free visit, with one or both of us on edge, sitting on our hands and biting our lips.
And bang in between was the wife's birthday.
I'm not very good at remembering birthdays, which doesn't go down well.
But this time thankfully I had actually bought a present and a card, so I was prepared.
The other thing about holidays is that you inevitably spend money like water.
And I have certainly been doing my bit to try and improve the retail trade figures.
So, that first "wasted" week saw a couple of days largely written off on Christmas shopping.
Yes, folks, I am that sad. I am one of these people who starts Christmas shopping about March, and try and pick bits and pieces up during the course of the year.
It means you spread the expense and you don't face a crisis come December 24.
Some people seems to thrive on that last minute rush; not me.
More expense with a visit to daughter in Southampton. Apart from the outrageous price of petrol, it always means a meal out and a supermarket stock-up to help the poor poverty-stricken child survive another few weeks in a student-style garret.
As for the "Grand Tour", we survived.
Highlight was son having a bag containing two pairs of new trousers stolen moments after buying them at an outlet store complex near Ellesmere Port. Put down momentarily as he tried on some shoes, and some Scouser swine had swiped them.
Do I feel refreshed? What do you think?