The Man and I have joined a gym because we want to become body builders.
Day one: I put The Man on an exercise bike to warm up. I instruct him to do five minutes of fast-ish cycling at low resistance. He spots the tv screen on the bike and looks happier.
Fifteen minutes later, he is still on the bike. He is not peddling fast.
‘What are you doing, The Man?’ I ask, returning to his bike.
‘Playing cards on this screen,’ he admits grudgingly, not quite meeting my eye.
Day two: we both have inductions with the in-house fitness people. The Man leaves the house wearing swimming trunks, old Fred Perry shoes and a t-shirt with a ghetto blasting robot.
He returns an hour later and reports – with genuine surprise – that the fitness guy took one look at him and burst out laughing.
I love you, The Man. X
Ps. We don’t really want to be body builders.