Where as there's no sign of me having swine flu or pneumonia, I will have to go to gyma

8.50am
As no sign of swine flu or pneumonia yet, after yesterday's shopping trip, haven't got an excuse for not going to gym.  Bee still painting away (allegedly) but think she is more likely onto second  Gin of the day and smoking fags in her studio. Mad Bab's might be working out this morning, feel like lamb going to slaughter. (sorry about cliché but fear addles my brain). Things might get so desperate I may have to watch Jeremy  Vile  Kyle to take mind off tedium of treadmill.

10.30am
Pass mighty Madge at gym lifting the equivalent of my body weight with her tiny toned arms that are like knots in string.I start on abserciser.  (don't know if that's the correct spelling, as 'spell check' crashed as if having a heart attack when I it asked for advice)  but anyway, it's that frame thing that's supposed to give you a six pack like Madge if you lie on the floor and then do half sit up's.  After 20 repetitions I'm completely knackered but as am lying on mat on floor, think of taking a sly nap, dream about cake, while looking as if doing stretches.

"That's going to do you no good at all," says Bab's appearing on mat beside me spoiling my reverie, you need to do proper sit ups, get your knees up to your elbows."  She demonstrates and I think how I'll need to do about 1,000 to look like Madge. Plus have an operation to remove half of my hips, obviously.

"What about joining me swimming after this ," she says enthusiastically, "you should come with me and train to swim across Windermere this Summer."

"Windermere? You mean the lake? I say.

"Yes, of course the lake." Bab says as if she'e dealing with an idiot

"But there's a really nice ferry that goes from side to side..." I say.

"No, no, you get sponsored for charity, it's only a mile."

Only a mile! I have vision of paramedics hauling my goose fat covered body out of lake, trying to revive me, before helicopter ambulance whisks me off to Lakeland infirmary.

"Much as I'd love to," I say in  most sincere voice "I have a morbid fear of water," which is truth, when Bab's is part of the equation.

"Oh. and look at the time, really must go, I have an appointment."

"Hairdresser? Nails?"

"No Job Centre, Back to work Seminar."  I say with some trepidation, after Wednesday's Ruckus.

Bab's raises sceptical eyebrow, "Don't suppose Bee would like to do swim?"

"Oh I'm sure she'd be delighted she's got all her badges you'll have to ask her next time you see her."

(I can feel my nose growing like Pinocchio's, hee hee naughty I know...but as Bee is not likely to come out of house until Autumn, I should be OK.)