Nice weather for ducks. And hippos.

"When Mr Grumpy told me you'd gone to aquarobics, I thought, 'She's gone mad," said my friend Jill. Pity I hadn't spoken to her before going, as I'd doubtless have agreed. The pool wasn't as warm as it had been last Thursday. I was half an hour early. By the time the instructor arrived, I was goose-pimply. 45 minutes on and my goose-pimples had gone crinkly. Then another lady in the class suggested going in the jacuzzi. This was warm and the jets on my chilly, aching muscles
were powerfully good.

I paddled back to the locker room, had a shower, then found I couldn't undo my new lock. It was one of those combination ones. And no, I hadn't forgotten the combination. I couldn't get the damned numbers to line up where they were supposed to. In fact, fiddle though I did, they wouldn't move at all. By the time I had discovered that you were meant to squeeze the revolving bands with the numbers on, not just shunt them back and forth, I was a delicate shade of blue.

By now, it was gone two and coffee and food were in order. I know, I thought; I'll try the snack bar in the gym where they have comfy chairs and the day's papers to read. Well, I waited, and the man in front of me waited, and nobody appeared to serve me. By now, chilly and with blood sugar taking a nosedive, my gruntle was exceedingly dis-sed.

Then I remembered the lady (Joan) who'd lured me into the jacuzzi saying that there was a coffee bar opposite the gym that did 99p cappuccinos. That sounded good to me. Half an hour and £4-worth of coffee and ham and salad ciabatta later, I was really to face the downpour. After ten minutes, the bus came. Remembering last Thursday when I'd hopped off the bus to soon, got lost and had to ring Mr G and ask him to come and find me in somewhere called Goulds Green, I stationed myself by a window. Which was steamed up, like all the others. The heating was on and as fast as I smeared away the steam, it reformed. By the time I realised where I was, it was too late.

Half an hour's puddle-hopping later, I made my weary, mud-splashed way through the front door vowing never to go to aquarobics on a wet day again unless I magically turn into a duck. Though Mr G informs me I resemble a hippo somewhat more closely.