Tuesday

In-keeping with the vague new fitness regime (which this weekend's boozing definitely wasn't), K and I are off for a swim after work for the third week running. She is much better than I at sticking to routines - particularly ones that are a good idea and don't involve any booze at all - and so it seems to be better for me that I carry on going with her. This also means that she'll bollock me if I try and wimp out and that's the best motivation for continued exercise I can think of.

I walk up through Priory Park and arrive at the pool at around 7.30, coincidentally just as Faye is leaving and making her way back to our house for dinner. After chatting with her for a bit, K turns up and we join the ridiculously long queue at Park Road Leisure Centre. This place, I have thought before, is run by morons - and it's incredibly frustrating to be stood in a queue 15 people long while the staff chat and joke among themselves behind the counter while a single person actually mans one of the many unused tills. The patrons aren't much better, however - with a couple of them choosing to argue the toss about having to have had an induction before using the gym for the first time.

I'm not in the best mood when we finally head into the pool, especially when an awful family sit and stand arguing in the gap between the changing rooms and the suana - none of them even bothering to swim; I'm sure it would be the same scene outside some ghastly pub were this Friday rather than Tuesday. Is it really the prospect of exercise that's making me so intolerant of the people here? I'm sure I could do this every day if it weren't for the appalling public.

I set myself a modest target of 30 lengths (K does twice as many and makes me slightly ashamed to be in the slow lane with the old people and the other lardy folk) and am totally exhausted by the end of it. I'm encouraged by the fact that I reached my target, as well as the fact that I'll surely get better with practice. The fact is that, despite being unfit, I'm also not a particularly strong swimmer and I'm not too keen on being underwater at any point - meaning I mostly flap and flail about in the water like a startled cat with a broken neck.

We finally tire and head home through the park which, despite the threat of rain, is a very nice way to walk on a summer's evening and get home with the prospect of a healthy dinner ahead of us. It's only one day a week at the moment - but I definitely feel better for getting a regular workout these days. It's just the days in between I need to work on now.