Well I suppose it had to happen sooner or later – Himself has been bitten by the fitness bug. I blame the physiotherapist myself, the evil cow. She gave him some exercises and the use of their gym equipment to improve the movement in his shoulder. I can think of some much better exercises for that - exercises that we can both enjoy. He’s now taken it upon himself to go one step further and implement his own exercise programme and not the sort I was thinking of.

Now I don’t have a problem with exercising in general – the bit I’m bloody well against is my participation in his keep fit regime. I joined a gym once – it was Tracy’s idea and like the sucker I am I allowed myself to be talked into it. I did lose weight and most definitely toned up, but while it did my body the world of good it turned my mind to mush. To put it mildly, it was the most boring activity I’ve undertaken since being talked into attending an evening discussing whether housewives would pay extra for organic vegetables. You can see a pattern emerging here, can’t you?

The bribe for that one was £25.00 worth of Marks & Spencer vouchers and a free meal. After everyone had eaten we got shown pictures of vegetables and our shopping habits were discussed. It was probably some weird sect out to take control of the housewives of the country; they were trying to send us into a hypnotic state – or something like that; I nearly fell asleep at any rate.

Switching back again – yes, keep up, you look like you could do with a bit of exercise too. I find gyms mind blowingly boring – I’ve nothing in common with a hamster so the tread mill holds no fascination what so ever.

You can guarantee that there is always some woman with a body to die for, perfect makeup and hair – making every piece of equipment look easy. If you felt awful about your body when you walked in though the door, you are positively suicidal when you stumble out passed the full length mirrors that adorn the walls, because you know that there is no way on earth that you are ever going to look like Claudia Schiffer.

Your hair is plastered to your forehead, your t-shirt sticking to your body highlighting your unique shape and your stomach making rumbling noises – because let's be honest here – the first thing you do when you leave the gym is find something to eat. You’re absolutely starving and unfortunately the gym is situation two doors down from the newsagents. Looking on it another way you’re helping the economy – you’re helping to keep the workers at Cadburys in employment for a start.

So this weekend Himself has decided that he’s going to repair the kids bikes, which are covered in cobwebs and dust and are currently propped up at the back of the shed. ‘We’ are going to take up cycling – oh, great joy – I can’t tell you how excited I am by all of this. No honestly I can’t – I can’t quite find the words to express myself, well nothing that I can write here at any rate. Personally I can’t see what's wrong with a leisurely walk. I think I'll be safe for a couple of weeks whilst he works on the bikes but after that I apparently have a new hobby.