I’m watching S- play through Uncharted 2 at the moment and have made a decision.

I want to join a gym – not the thing that sounds the same as ‘Jim’, but the thing that is pronounced ‘gime’, like ‘mime’ with a g. The former sounds scary and serious and hard work. The later sounds silly, and like it might actually be – dare I say it? – fun?

Anyway, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the PS3 series, Uncharted is like a cross between Clive Cussler’s Dirk Pitt, Indiana Jones and a dry-cool-wit Arnie flick. And everyone in it can do awesome things, and is generally so full of win that I feel totally inadequate by comparison. Fiction does this to me. As you will no doubt come to see throughout this post…

So, to Confession Time. When we were going around Tintagel, I really felt old. In days of yore, I would have run around, imagining all kinds of fantasy stories and pretending I was some super-cool heroine, hair all kinds of horizontal in the wind as I daringly stared over the cliff edge. Oh yeah. I’m that  awesome.

Well, actually, I’m that lame – what’s it to ya?

At Tintagel though, I was painfully aware that I was in the real world, that I was somebody’s mother, and that as a result, my body was badly broken.

I used to be able to kid myself that if an army of horses had materialised, I could have stood against them and died standing. On those cliffs though, feeling the way I did – and indeed, the way I do – I would have stripped off in seconds and prayed that my greying pants would make an adequate surrender flag. I honestly don’t know how I ever had the stamina to do an eight hour hospital day, let alone a 12 and a half hour one!

I want not only to be healthy again, but to be fit. Fit enough to survive a zombie apocalypse (because I have the boots to go with that), or be transported back in time and somehow learn to joust and fight with broadswords re. Crichton’s Timeline. So, to the gym.

First though, because I am intolerably vain, I will be doing my yoga DVDs of an evening in an effort to look less like the Michelin Man.

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