Going to the gym plays spectacularly to my obsessive tendencies. I start off hating it then find myself doing a couple of extra squats when really I should just be picking Grover up and checking the tears are indignation not injury. Recently the gym has been solitary work on machines which sound like I should be having an epiphany rather than a suspected heart attack. Then last week I crossed the threshold and entered ‘the room’ to do a class. I endured being called ‘my newcomer’. I kept up. I didn’t appear too uncoordinated. I enjoyed it. Go figure.