Let's twist again

So, Ned goes away walking for a week, and covers about 110 miles plus a bit more for when they went the pretty way. He comes home, has a good night’s sleep, and puts his back out the very next morning. He’s now creeping around looking like Richard III on a bad day, and has lost his sense of humour. I can’t get further than “Now is the winter of our discon…” before something hits me. Tsk! Some people have no appreciation.

*mutters “the bells, Esmeralda, the bells”*