Three days in a row on the bike. Which means I’ve outlasted protégé, he’s cycled twice this week but wimped out today. These youngsters have no stamina. Us old gits rule.
“I'm going to destroy my spreadsheet. It's ruining my life.” So says L. Oh dear.
She says she’s so busy with work and trying to read books that she’s not getting to the gym. Work isn’t on her spreadsheet though, so in theory she shouldn’t be doing it...
I have my swimming stuff with me and consider a brief swim. If only I knew what a ‘Fitness Swim’ was, as that’s the session the leisure centre are advertising. L’s depressive, spreadsheet hating comment “What's a swim?” isn’t helpful.
It also says ‘half the pool only’. Perhaps they’ve sublet the other half?
Turns out they have, to a swim class of six people, which means everyone else is packed into three lanes. Not pleasant. Alienating far more than the six people the class has attracted.
I manage twenty two lengths until a chap gets in front of me and won’t let me pass. After six more painfully slow lengths I get out in frustration. Twenty eight lengths in total. L would have burnt her spreadsheet at such an unrounded number. That is if she still had a spreadsheet to burn.
(Thursday 22nd March)
The Marconiphone Radiogram
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