As I motored through glorious south west London it seemed to me that everyone in Clarhm and ButterSeah was jogging. Now I've seen joggers before - I am, after all, very cosmo - make mine a large one - politan. The difference is that these joggers look fit, streamlined and lovely. The joggers near me are often of the jogging slower than walking brigade and some have bottoms large enough for a family of four with au pair and large SUV!
I shouldn't be discussing the spread of the cheek though; I should be grabbing it, not the cheek, but the spirit and running after them in an ONJ head band! Why? I hear you say. Cos - I DON'T WANT TO DIE!
But I am to die, though hopefully not for many years, but I'm thinking if I donned a velour leisure slack, borrowed a walkman and got trotting myself along the Rye - I may increase the number of years between now and the final countdown. I know I am a wonderful specimen of a man, but I also know that I am a bit fat. As my father said to me yesterday in one of those father-son stylee moments
'You're Getting FAT!'
How we laughed about his usage of the word getting - how. The truth is though that I'm actually not too bothered about girthage, but more concerned with being fit. As long as my heart, lungs and circulation are happy, I'm not so bothered about being larger than dear Pater would have me.
So - yes,.... um, so.......
Well I have been looking into it. Since the Wii Fit has left home I won't be able to ski board my way to a healthy heart. I could go jogging but my bum is far too pert, and far too small. So there is only one thing for it - I'm joining the army. Private Godwin - get down and give me ten! Yes sir - I mean Sergeant!
Well I'm not actually going to join the army - that would just be silly, and it wouldn't be anything like those art movies I've seen. But I have found a place whose website did put me in mind of the New Avengers and there was a picture of a black Land Rover Defender (my sort of car porn).
BMF - British Military Fitness. They do it in my park and they do a slow beginners class for unhealthy people like me. So it'll be me and lots of yummy mummies wanting to lose their post breeding rubber ring. I think our class will run at the same time as the class for fine fit things, so there is always the potential for a glimpse of a firm man thigh to keep me from, or lead me to, cardiac arrest. Basically it is PE outdoors, but without the need for producing the obligatory 'Sorry my son can't do games again this week - he's still gay' letter from your mum.
So there you go. I am yet to sign on the line, there's a bit more sitting on the sofa contemplating it over a glass or two of fine Bordeaux to do first before I sign up and get off, I mean get on.
But you never know - I did give up smoking - so anything is possible.
However, to be on the safe side I have also updated my will. So if you get a visit from a solicitor clutching 2 brass candle sticks, an arts and crafts book shelf and some 1968 ‘The Killing of Sister George’ Lobby Cards, then you'll know the Bordeaux got me first.
Yours, in peep toe sports espadrilles.
William H G Godwin III