I joined a gym today. This is a good move, as I have been in a bit of a fatty fatty boom boom trend over the past few weeks. So I went up did filled in the form and everything, and then got shown around the gym etc. As they showed me around the gym, they started to fill out like an exercise plan thing, based on the little weights machine. Everyone seems to have a little plan, in a little folder, in the little filing cabinet they have. Thing is, I don't want an exercise plan. Certainly not one which estimates my strength levels at the level of a sclerotic dwarf. I like to lift weights, in a display of my rugged, yet cuddly, masculinity. I do not want to cissy about on the shanner machines. Hopefully, I can in a circumspect manner, move my way onto the weights bench in due course.
On the way back from the gym we got caught in the rain. Phil put a newspaper and I jokingly said: “Whats wrong, are you going to melt?” I forgot of course that the rain out here is acidic, so yes you possibly might.