It’s Flabuary and I am keeping up the gym visits. Today I did an exercise class called ‘Tea and Tone’ which my husband misheard this morning as tea and scone.
I turned up to find six retired women dressed in various shades of pastel exercise/sleepwear. Without stating their age there was no doubt this lot had travelled to the gym using their free bus passes, knowwadi mean?
So we lined up and the music started and it was Cliff Richard’s Living Doll. As I marched on the spot I was smiling inside at how I’d somehow got tangled up with the old folk. Then it ramped up and went from Cliff Richard to James Brown to Bobby Brown to semi consciousness for me in less than ten minutes.
Those old women were cheerfully channelling their inner Olga Korbuts, and making a very good job of it, too. A few of them got their legs into places that were more Kama Sutra than Council Sports Centre . The Ladies chatted all through the hour, no heavy breathing even. Me? I was panting and looking around hoping to see an oxygen tank at the ready for emergencies..
Purple and fighting for breath I even tore the gusset of my stretch pants trying to keep up. When the class was all over after 58.6 minutes (there was a clock on the wall that I was convinced was broken because it was moving so slowly) the ladies recommended I try Coffee and Cardio next week.