Monday

Almost impossible to get out of bed this morning. Jean prises me out at 8.15. Somebody has inserted a brush handle between my legs in the night, I look bow legged and am unable to walk - deep joy. I look some sort of cowboy and swing my way into Tesco for a pasta snack. Crisis at the 10 items till which has run out of change, then a yoghurt incident, then two consecutive credit card failures. Conspiracy theory abounds. Get to matchworks and clamber up the stairs. Feel chronic this is bed is permanent pain returning, ah its just the gym, saunter round the block prior to my 11 oclock and feel bette. Keep moving say the two techies who are body builders. Talk to the work experience guy who is a great kid but suffering from the fact his mam and dad are big in the local health economy. I think we get on as he is a sad geek like me. He has one of these and I want it.
Off to burlington house in sefton for a heads of informatics or (IM&T) as they all say. We each have to bring our boss and it feels a bit like a parents evening at school but turning up with your mum. Not that my boss is like me mum. (quick denial issued). Frightens me again that we discuss major policy and no one has a clue what the immediate future holds.
I go for a jimmy for which you have to go through a locked door which Amanda promises to open when I knock. She sods off and I am there fo what seems like ages but cant have been more than 20mins bangin like a soft get till rescued by Davey Bray who used to work with me and is more puzzled than me why I am sobbing hysterically in a locked stairwell.
Drive back to matchworks have a good natter with Val about allsorts and occaisionally work. Do a few jobs but plan for dart to gym is scuppered, knees scream for delight. I hear the voice of the techie body builders in an Obi Wan Kenobie way - keep them moving fat boy - otherwise they will lock. So after a chat to to the delightful and irrepressible Gail Campbell the only other confirmed blog reader I head for Greenbank.
Heart is warmed by the sight of guru Jack who is impressed with my appearance. I think he likes the cowboy thing. We stand loking in the mirror as he supervises my squats. He seems to have cottoned to the effect and the gym doors are wide open. I realise gazing in the full length mirror that I may have lost weight dont laff though I have seeen the numbers it aint registered. He also says my figure is looking good, and I am getting definition around my shoulders. I am too ashamed to ask him what he means, he isn't hitting on me though of that I am sure. Two nice chaps come in they seem very good friends and work out in a synchronised way. Sort of like formation aerobics and follow each other around the machines helping and working together. I aint sure about their sexuality but hey seem happy and it reminds me of primary school when you woud pair up with someone. They weren't your friend but they had to act like it for a bit. Ah for those days, pictures on your peg, pump bags, Mrs Barkers ample bosom, which smelt of TCP, and on your birthday you could take four friends into the wendy house for cakes.
Back home for tea loverrly bognese thing and then Jeans saunters off for brisk walk to blow the cobwebs away. Watch sppoks and chill early night and wake today with loads to do, stiff the knees but refreshed.