‘Seriously?‘ – J. Taylor
I’ve had a bit of an unfortunate experience. This sort of thing never happened to me when I sat quietly at home, eating chocolate, drinking tea and scribbling the occasional paragraph.
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but my lifestyle came in for a bit of criticism recently – and not just the normal stuff from my nearest and dearest. I was strolling through town one day when I was ambushed by one of those Healthy Lifestyle info vans the council leaves lying around to ruin people’s day.
Obviously, I did my best to avoid eye contact but the buggers ran me down in the doorway of Thornton’s Chocolate Cabin. I filled in a questionnaire and things weren’t too bad until we got to the section on physical activity. Apparently, you’re supposed to take 150 minutes of exercise a week. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure. Questioned closely about the amount of exercise I took every day, and working it out on my fingers, the total was four and a half seconds. About the time it takes me to walk from bedroom to desk. Obviously, this was unacceptable – as was my offer to spin it out to thirty minutes by walking very, very slowly. Anyway, in a moment of weakness – and to secure my release – I signed up for Aqua Aerobics and that’s where I’ve just been.
I scrambled into my cossy with my eyes closed because there’s only so much I can handle at that time of the morning, underwent locker trauma – happily resolved by the lady next to me hitting it with her shoe – and the next thing I was up to my neck in pleasantly warm water. I waved a few arms and legs around, decided this wasn’t too bad after all and then the instructor turned up. With music. And a microphone. And my day darkened.
The first thing I discovered is that I have no coordination. Of any kind. Fortunately, most of the action was taking place underwater so I reckoned I could fake most of it.
Fake Aerobics – there’s a thought!
Paddling back to the point – the next part was a little bit of a disaster. Good old Gloria was belting out I Will Survive – not a statement with which I felt I could concur – when we were commanded to assume a horizontal position and kick.
Well – I assumed and kicked – and shot smoothly backwards. I think we were all surprised by that. Not least the very pleasant but slightly surprised lady behind me. I couldn’t believe it. It’s a universal constant. You kick – you go forwards. Not me, it would seem.
There’s worse. It was noodle time. Before anyone asks, I’m talking about those long tube things that keep you afloat. I don’t know what the world calls them – to me they’re noodles. Anyway, I seized my noddle, thrust it into position as instructed and the bloody thing promptly upended me and there I was, upside down, legs waving in the air, and seriously considering suing Gloria who obviously hasn’t got a clue what she’s singing about.
I’m sorry, but I can’t resist. Look away now. Never was the expression ‘tit’s up’ more appropriate.
It gets even more worser. Completely out of control by now, my noodle and I, battling for supremacy, floated, wildly flailing across shipping lanes of perfectly performing ladies, causing consternation and chaos wherever we went. People were upset. I could hear the occasional, ‘Oh, I say …’
Eventually, one end sprang free and caught me in the eye. I fell backwards and once again I’m upside down and taking in water and wondering if I should have written my name on the soles of my feet because that’s the only bit of me currently visible.
So – a bit of an ordeal, I think everyone will agree. I’m damp, bruised, blinded, heavily chlorinated and been tricked – tricked, I tell you – into doing it all again.
And before anyone asks – no, there are no photos.