The Self Preservation Society

Business calls received: 5 (yes, it was a bloody busy one)
Bad jokes heard today: 3 (but i'm still laughing at one of them)

Since I started 'working from home' again it's been very hard to do anything remotely work like - I'm just far too busy.
Even if i don't have to do the school run, by the time i've checked my emails, replied to any remotely interesting ones (doesn't take long), deleted crap, unwanted ones (takes longer) and dashed off down to the gym for an hour it's almost time to start thinking about lunch. I haven't even allowed time here to google, yahoo and youtube my way through an ultimately unfulfilling hour's waste of an idea. Imagine the inconvenience when the mobile goes and i actually have to talk business to someone?

Anyway, i digress. I wanted to talk more specifically about the gym which i have now, i think quite aptly, labelled The Self Preservation Society. This monicker is not for selfish purposes. Whilst i have an interest in trying to keep myself relatively in trim the name is applied more in honour of the other attendees than for anything i am likely to do. Let me explain:

This is no ordinary, David Lloyd, 60 quid a month, yearly contract, beautiful people gym. Think scout hut, school disco, playgroup or afternoon linedancing and you immediately think of delapidated hut festooned with appropriate banners and notices stuck to the wall that nobody will ever read. Now imagine that hall emptied of everything, put down a frayed carpet, ensure windows won't open no matter how hard you push and then re-fill with antiquated gym equipment (has to be 1980's or earlier), rusty weights and cycling machines that wont stop even when you finished pedalling fifteen minutes ago and you have a pretty good idea of where i go most mornings. It's great and all for 70 shiny pounds. Per year!

And the main reason i think it's great is because of the people. Every morning the older generation come out of the woodwork and meet at the SPS (that's what i'm going to call it - can you see what i've done there? well i have just returned from America...). These guys have known each other for years. You'd never see them at another gym and, quite frankly, they wouldn't go anywhere else. Whilst most men of a certain age meet in the pub (or more likely in the doctor's waiting room) this lot go to keep fit, take the piss out of each other and crack rubbish jokes that you've heard a thousand variations of. They moan about football, the budget and winter fuel allowance and finish it all off with coffee and biscuits. Chocolate digestives of course.

Each one has something to say. Each one makes me laugh in their own way (they're not always trying to and they don't always know it!) and most of them seem to have troubles which they appear to bear well - it can be very humbling. I'll tell you more about them as we go along.

Oh yeah, it's great to be the young one in the crowd again!