Fitness freak

This little entry is about fitness. A former friend [ Normski] informed me this week that on my next birthday I shall be officially middle aged. Eh? Tis not possible. I've yet to reach my prime. Could I have reached my prime and not noticed? Bugger.

Anyway, I am now entering my third year of 'Keep Fit' so technically I should be lithe, sprightly and energised. In year one, I was presented with a shiny pin badge for joining. In year two, the new year gift was a handy 'shopping trolley fake coin on a key ring' thingy. This year, we got a trendy Eco friendly bag with the corporate logo emblazoned on the side. All very nice thanks but frankly I'd trade them all in for the ability to touch the toes on the ends of my very short legs. I've paid my dues faithfully and grunted with the best of them. But no, I'm still decidedly stecky.

I wouldn't mind so much but there are women at this group, twice my age, who can fold their legs behind their ears while they knit Arran sweaters. I kid you not. There's one lady who bends herself so far she can practically shake hands with everyone in the three back rows. Me? I can hardly bend to get my jazz shoes on.

You may be interested to know that some women make the occasional thrrrrrrrrt kind of noise when they bend over. That came as a great surprise to me. Do you know how hard it is not to laugh when the lady next to you is parping away like a Skoda in a traffic jam? Not easy.

I only agreed to go to the flaming group because you have to be over 40 to join. We were the youngest there by about 20 years. That'll do us. How hard can it be? Hah! Each week I stagger home red faced and breathless - from embarrassment as much as exertion - to find I'm no closer to my toes than I was the week before.

Never mind, perhaps next year they'll give us some Tupperware.