For those that read my last posts, today was the day of my first rehab.
It would probably sound more current and hip (is that the word used now adays) if it was some other sort.
Perhaps some sex clinic (chronic or episodic) or maybe alcohol or even drugs.
Did think about at least two of those (allergic to injections) (have a habit of fainting) so that ruled out the third option.
Do you think I could get away with episodic sex addiction, maybe it should be suggested to the celebs that keep getting caught.

Back to the subject in hand...

I arrived mid morning and waited patiently, shortly a kindly yet portly figure approached, “ are you Mr Cavalier “she asked.
I was led into what could only be described as the old grunting room for lost souls and ripped up diet sheets.
Puffing and panting in their newly acquired white trainers and jogging pants were a selection of new inmates to the regime of fitness belatedness desperate to please the young hovering vultures of youth, clipboard in hands.

It was like being led to the gallows as I approached the Cycle of doom,
“Just do what you can” said the youth with a never shaven spotty face, a face that didn’t betray the smugness and boredom of it all. (That’s training for you)
Cutting it short.
After my stint on the treadmill and rowing machine…
Education education  education.
The talk funnily enough was about exertion and sex (well that rules me out)

At home later peeling the potatoes again for my daily 5 and remembering what Potter had suggested about the apron, was at the sink relating what had happened to the missus.
“Do you still fancy baby potatoes and courgettes “
She looked around and said…
“Something just put me off”

“fish and chips”

Makes your bottom itch all this cycling

Must be honest my bottoms itching reading this drawl