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How to exercise

The exercise world is a tricky one, but having joined a gym and been to 3 whole classes, I will be your guide. It is very important to fit in when attending an exercise class. The things to wear are black leggings and an artfully slouchy, extremely expensive top type thing. I have achieved this look by simply locating a rather grubby, shapeless pajama top, and sticking my shoulder through the arm hole. I cannot tell you how impressed the other class-goers are. (I mean this literally. The shoulder through the arm hole thing means turning is very difficult, and I have hugely compromised my peripheral vision).

 Once in the class, stand next to a woman who looks the least physically intimidating. (Inexplicably, several women rushed to stand next to me, but I assume that was simply because they wanted to know where I had bought my excellent exercise top).

 At all points in the class, maintain eye contact with the teacher. This will not only tell everyone else in the class that you are here to exercise, but will also help to prevent terrible mishaps such as a wrong-direction lunge, or a misunderstanding of the phrase ‘and release’.

Even the shortest exercise class feels like practical evidence for Einstein’s theory of relativity. I have found it helpful, therefore, to wear a watch, just to reassure oneself that time is continuing to pass, despite all evidence to the contrary. Unfortunately, the only working watch I currently own has somehow set itself to beep every half hour, a constant high-pitched obstacle to my very first instruction: fit in. 

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My former teacher

I’m off to lunch with a former teacher. I am aware that the term is ‘old’ teacher, but this teacher is not old (and I’m still a terrible suck-up). We’re going to a pub just by my old school (the school cares less about the ageing process). I am terribly excited. I have passed this pub thousands of times. I have been inside it precisely once, at lunchtime, after the very last day of school. I was dressed as a school girl. (Our school didn’t have a uniform, we had chosen voluntarily to dress up as school girls. My hair was in pigtails. It seems I was channeling Heidi.

A sort of lightly smashed Heidi. Who was absolutely thrilled to be in the pub on a school day). I was drinking southern comfort and lemonade, which I told everyone was ‘a very refreshing summer drink’. The barman did not seem to care as much as I had assumed he would. I was 18 years old, but being in the pub the teachers frequented was all a bit too adult for me. Someone ordered crisps, which I refused to eat in a bid to seem more ‘grown-up’. I was an idiot. Luckily, I am getting a second chance. Today I will be far more grown-up. Gosh, I hope I get to pop into the staffroom. I hear they have excellent biscuits.

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