I joined the gym last week.
It’s ok – the novelty hasn’t worn off yet although I hate the cross-trainer already. I went backwards on it on the first go and didn’t even realise. I must have looked like a prize chump. I’ve already sussed out who are the ones that are obsessed and live in the gym. There’s a meathead in the gym bit who is already there each time I go and is still there by the time I leave whatever time or day of the week. He prances around as if he has an onion up his bottom and lifts really heavy weights in a very controlled manner. Then he moves onto the cross-trainer and puts it on the vertical hill impossible setting and works out on his tiptoes, winceing and sweating as if in real pain. What a plonker. There is a much quieter room upstairs (next to the bar – I’ll get onto that) with lots of exercise bikes in it. The first time I went there was a man on the farthest bike by the window who looked like he had had a bucket of water poured over him so much so that the bike was covered in his sweat and a puddle was forming on the floor. Horrendous. When I went the other day there was no one in the room which meant I had it to myself. I glanced over to the bike where he was last time and then realised I must have just missed him as there was a huge puddle of water at the base of the farthest bike. Disgusting! Next time I see him I’m going to ask him to clean up after himself! And yes – it has a pool and a dance studio thing (no I won’t be going in there unless they are doing Bus Stop classes see above) and squash courts (no thanks) and a bar! It’s lovely. It’s right at the top of the building and has a semi-panoramic view of the outside, newspapers, fully stocked wide semi-circular bar and nice squashy leather sofas – so when you are gasping after burning 300 calories and cycled the equivalent of half the Tour De France you can just stagger upstairs and undo it all by having a lovely glass of something. I was good – I had a fizzy water. (And a glass of wine when I got home). Of course.