Meanwhile, having made a Capri that was 1/2" too small thanks to a dodgy drawing, we have the new one, or at least the right hand half of it.
A fella has to keep busy.
I was required to go to what is called Cardiac Rehab yesterday. I had to get up while it was still night time, drive 40 miles in traffic and park out of sight of the hospital for 3 quid in a machine that wouldn't work, just to sit in a tiny gym and be preached at by a woman who really should have taken her own dietary advice, along with her three staff, then do a series of physical jerks like school PE.
NOT A BLOODY CHANCE!
She seemed to read the mood very quickly and couldn't get rid of us quick enough.
I will, of course, do as she asks and build up to a daily 30 minute session of exercise, even though to walk round here for 30 minutes is to die another death, that of sheer boredom!
What I will not do twice a week for three hours, over 4 weeks, is all the above plus pretend to be enjoying it like all the other old farts present, who all wore sports clothes and a coloured sash. Oh my sweet Heavens, whatever next? I do not, never have, nor ever will possess any item of apparel which could, by any stretch of the imagination, be mistaken for sports clothing.
If you ever see me in trousers displaying a stripe up the leg, or a pair of training shoes...shoot me!