The only way to get fizzy water here is to buy it in very expensive French or Italian bottles. So I'm risking my health and drinking aspartamine-sweetened soda-pop: lots of it.
At the same time I'm watching much more TV. Apart from sport in bars, this is almost my first foray into TV. It's quite difficult to watch TV here, 'cos they don't seem to have an electronic program guide, and about half the time seems to be taken up with adverts. So channel-hopping has a fifty-fifty chance of coming up with an advert. I can see why 'genre' channels are popular here: at least you can wait for the adverts to stop and see which movie/game it is.
The dance festival in Virginia made it quite clear to me that I was neglecting my exercise regime at my peril. My grown-up lady dance instructor left me quite out-of-puff several times.
October is an obvious opportunity to get back on track. After three days, the aching muscles are also telling me I neglected them at my peril. I shall just have to remember what Alex Ferguson said to me, that rest is an integral part of exercise, and not injure myself trying to get fit.
I am presently sharing my room with a superb cavalier fly, worthy of Hanna-Barbera at their best (at MGM). I have given it a French accent. It flies in front of everything: TV, book, computer, until I pick up the flyswot. Then it's gone, hurling abuse. As soon as I tire and put the flyswot down, it's at it again. It even lands on my head, and my hand. There is no point in sitting poised with the flyswot at the ready: nothing happens till I put it down.
I ought to integrate fly-swotting into my exercise program, a bit like fencing. I shall do this when I'm fit enough. How long do flies live?
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