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I’ve been at it again – getting hot, getting nipple rash and getting myself into a bit of a lather with complex gym equipment. I’m still not sure of what I want to do, exercise-wise. I just want the flab to firm up or fuck off. So, when the boys upstairs invited me for a ‘taster’ session at the very suave-sounding David Lloyd Centre, I decided to give it a go. The girl on reception had Vaseline on her eyelids. ‘Oooh’ I thought, ‘this is a classy joint.’ The changing room was finished in a light walnut veneer; there was ‘product’ in the shower area and a Polish cleaning lady in the ladies. Yes, very classy! I slipped into my gear and jogged upstairs to the gym area – where I discovered a bewildering array of machines. I tried them all but couldn’t work out how the control panels worked which put me at a slight disadvantage. I did manage a 5 minute jog on a running machine but having nothing really interesting to look at, apart from my own face in the mirror or a really old episode of Poirot on the gym tv, I gave up and buggered off to the pool for something a bit more gentle. I did a couple of lengths but there was a bit of light petting going on at the deep end and it put me off my stroke so I slipped into the steam room. This was populated by lots of very hairy men in flip flops. Meanwhile, in the jacuzzi there was a froth of menopausal women comparing cellulite. This didn’t appeal and I couldn’t help but think about all that festering bacteria as a result of people positioning their front and back bottoms over the jetstream. Anyway, not sure that David Lloyd is the place for me! The next day I went to the very aptly-named hot yoga with my friend Jules. I’ve never seen  so much perspiration. We were packed in like sardines which is not what you want when a. the man in front of you has loose fitting shorts and no pants on and b. the propensity of sweat means you can’t get a grip in downward dog and keep kicking the woman behind in the head. If I can keep my limbs in check and concentrate on my ‘practice’ instead of obsessing about claustrophobia and body odour, maybe hot yoga is the way to go….�