Pilates

Finally trying to do something about my terribly unhealthy lifestyle (sitting in front of a computer all day), the missus persuaded me to go with her to a pilates class.

Apparently it's pronounced pih-lah-tays, not pie-lates, which is a shame 'cos the latter sounds a bit like "pirates" and I had all my aaarrrgh-Jim-lad gags ready to go. However, the beginner's session, taken by Jenny Sherwood, was very good and I've already learned enough to know that my posture is appalling and I don't breathe properly. In addition, I've discovered several new muscles to cause pain to myself with.

It seems that my hamstring is very tight (which explains why I never became a professional footballer), for one thing, and that I can no longer sit cross-legged as I used to on a daily basis at primary school. Not, at least, without the aid of a rubber block.

It remains to be seen whether or not I carry on going but I've been practising flattening my pubic bone, taking deep breaths and tensing up my stomach. I'm not sure whether the kebab I ate on the way home was counter-productive or not. I expect I'll find out later in the course.