Dear Sheddists,
can it be that cruel January has left us cold and huddled in the grip of an icy, fresh month? It seems an age since my fingers last crawled tortuously across the keyboard of the trusty Victrola, but 2012 it undoubtedly now is.
Time passes fast as the race from middle to old age picks up speed. I am, however, delighted to report the illnesses and general ill-being of the latter part of 2011 now fade into the distance. The turning point was signing up to the services of a personal trainer at the local Health Club frequented by the electrofried clan. Yours truly is now a buffer and fitter specimen than greeted in the New Year.
It is the quintessential pleasure of an English roue to pay a significant sum of money for a tawdry hour of physical exertion that leaves one sore and gasping for breath. The five sessions to date have proved their worth. I have been stretched, weighted, cajoled, massaged ... and most bizarre of all, attacked with an iron-bar. But my shoulder is now almost back to normal!
No longer do I don the speedos to swim in aimless circles, courtesy of an aching right-arm refusenik. My limbs now work in harmonious co-operation to propel me sylph-like through the chlorinated waters toward the opposite end of the swimming pool. Would that all life be like this!
best regards as ever,
electrofried(mr)
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