When I was younger, I used to go to aerobics every Tuesday. Let's all of us think of a long and interesting story as to why I did that, but a guy's got to get his exercise where he can find it.
Anyhow, I have three strong memories of those times. The first is that Mrs Scobi used to go, so we can sort of say we met over a sweaty leotard. My second memory was this girl/woman who was always in the front row, who was friends with the instructor, who always did the "if you want to push it further do this" bits, and who had the most amazing curve in her back - her body in a leotard looked like one of those Jane Austin women with a massive bow on the back of their dress, such was the curve and the protrusion of the bottom. I can feel a serious squirrel moment coming on.
The third thing I remember was the terrible bit at the end when you had to stretch and bend and hold all sorts of positions that in another context would definitely contravene International Human Rights legislation. Right at the end of all that torture was the "and . . . relax" moment when we were allowed to just lie there and rest.
That is the feeling I have today as Friday appears over the horizon.
I am starting very early today (my day started with the lowest number starting with a six, for Bad Man readers) so that I can finish early and head to the New Forest for some R&R amongst the trees and with our very good friends, who I mistakenly called Homer and Marge last time I wrote about them, but who of course really should have been called Brad and Angelina. In the good days. And without any adoptions. Anyhow, the weather forecast is looking good, and there is a lovely river near the site where one can dip one's toe in to water, or jump from a rope swing in to the deep bit, depending on your predilection. If the sun does shine it will be as busy as Brighton beach, and just as interesting for the people-watchers amongst us.
Have a great weekend, and speak again soon.