Today


Decided to go back to the gym this week. The Summer's feasting has taken its toll and I've at least 12lbs to lose if I'm going to fit into that dress for the Christmas bash. So, off to the personal trainer, who put me through various forms of torture. I was pleased to discover that I haven't lost all ground in the last 6 months. I can remember many of the exercises and even do most of them.


Some of them are quite scary; especially those that involve me lying on my back on a Swiss ball - that's the gym equivalent of a Space Hopper (without the ears).


Plus, Paul and I have started playing badminton again after a nearly 2 year gap. I was horrified when Paul absolutely thrashed me last week. That's usually my privilege.


In My Day


Daddy disapproved of sports, especially for girls. He really believed that it was a choice between brawn or brain and he preferred brain any day. He took no exercise himself. My mother occasionally went swimming at the Brockwell Park Lido and tried to teach me, but I was much too scared.


Gym lessons at school were a nightmare. How exactly does one climb up a rope? I never got off the ground. I remember the day I actually managed to vault over the box - that was a fluke as I only did it once. Teachers called me lazy and sloppy; I was just frightened and had no idea how to start.


I was always the last one to be picked when teams were chosen for various games (who'd want sloppy old me in their team?).


In the playground it was even worse; girls did handstands against the school wall, or cartwheels on the field. I didn't seem to have that spring.


Once at secondary school, I developed a liaison with the art mistress, Miss Jones. "I need Julia in the art room" she'd write on a note when it was time for hockey. So I managed to avoid that particularly nasty and ugly game.


I played a passing game of netball, because I was tall and could throw and catch a ball, so I generally found myself as goal shooter because in that position you don't have to do any running.

I managed to get through school without even coming near being in any sort of team. And, once past junior school, avoided sports days altogether.


At least my Becky can still do a cartwheel as she demonstrated this summer; and she's got a degree in linguistics. Just goes to show.