I've never been in a gym. That is, I set foot inside my son's school gym on a tour round the school, but I was fully dressed with no intention of getting active in any way. Badgerdaddy impresses and exhausts me with his curly feats.
I have, however, cycled in to Yagnub at 8 o'clock every morning and home again at the end of the day, which was any time between 5 and 6.45. I say every day, that isn't so. I drove in on Tuesday as I had to go to a meeting at 9 and there wouldn't be time to go back for the car. I made up for it on Thursday, though, by going there and back twice.
I don't know. My clothes don't feel any looser, but my daughter and daughter-in-law assure me my bum looks less big. I hope that hard work and being cold all week will have burned off a certain amount of lard, although in the last couple of days I have succumbed to the mid-morning bacon roll.
And tonight I had steak. But I think steak is good. A girl needs iron and protein. And I griddled it and ate the baked potato plain. With vegetables. And red wine. Red wine's good, too.
I'm reluctant to believe that the non-looseness of my clothes has anything to do with this sort of behaviour. After all, there are lots of things that I'm not eating that I used to.