Boot Camp.

There I was, lying on a muddy rugby pitch doing sit ups looking at the stars, the grass was wet, the muscles were straining and I was very, very tired. What appalling set of circumstances could have conspired to find me doing exercises in the rain on a rugby pitch at 6.15 in the morning? Unfortunately it was nothing less than twenty odd years of fun and excess. Which is why I am at Boot Camp or as our trainer rather unpleasantly calls it “Flab-u-less” I don’t know if I object to the –u-, the flab or the pun the most but I prefer to call it boot camp. Let’s call a spade a spade look each other in the eye and bravely accept that all those years of carousing have finally caught up with us but let’s not call it flab. Don’t get me wrong, I love me but I’d love a little less of me more.

It all came about when an old friend came to stay; he lives in New Zealand so I only get to see him about once a year. He’s a great friend with whom I’ve spent many years carousing so we’re pretty close but he can say things that leave the more sensitive amongst us reeling. We were playing cards and he commented on how rubenesque I was looking these days. In his defence he was smiling at the time and paying me a compliment. Or so he thought. Oh, the sudden silence and then the screams and the laughter. All the girls were chiding him roundly; the boys were sniggering into their glasses grateful that it was some other chap that had put his foot in it. I was glaring and poor Mark was floundering and apologising but not knowing why. Rubenesque indeed!

Well I was cut to the bone but as the bone was apparently below many rubenesque layers this cutting took sometime. Finally, with a sigh I had to acknowledge that thinking about exercise has far fewer benefits than actually doing it. Although it does have the benefit of you staying warm and dry in bed with no aches. So here I am typing, even that makes me ache, and hoping that this torture will all be for the good. Next week the detox part starts, this fresh hell will involve the removal of coffee and alcohol from my diet which is going to be tricky as they are two of my basic food groups. If Petra also removes sugars and fat then we are in for a pretty hairy month at Chez Hurley but I’m sure she won’t, she’s seems really nice and friendly.

Now the reason that I’m sharing this with you is so that I can’t back out. I’m brilliant at prevarication and just down right laziness but I figure that if I commit myself to print then I’ll have to see it through. So we’ll speak no more of it and in a month’s time I’ll let you know if I survived and more importantly if the family survived.

With no wine to recommend all I can suggest is that you pop into Ellis Wharton Wines or del Monico’s yourself and ask what they suggest. If you come across something great please keep it to yourself.

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