I was in two minds about today’s torture session at the gym.

I call it the gym simply because it is full of stationary yokes that you pedal with your feet or your arms, or row, or run on, or simply devices to make you ache all over afterwards. If those fucking machines actually moved, I’d be half way to Galway by now.

Anyways I got as far as looking up the hospital’s number and actually had the phone in my hand when I decided to fuckit and go in after all. I ain’t no quitter.

Numbers were back up today. We were five in number but one came with a note from his mammy excusing him because he had a torn tendon or ligament or something. He was sent home with a big grin on his face. Bastard!

After the session I realised it was pissing rain. At first I thought it was just sweat that was pouring off me, but it was in fact raining.

I haven’t really driven the car in rain before. I had used the wipers before [naturally the switch works in the opposite direction to the one on the old Focus] but this was serious downpour stuff. This was compounded by the fact that I was still sweating and radiating heat like a two bar electric fire. Of course the car steamed up and I couldn’t see out properly. At this stage I was on the motorway so I couldn’t really examine how to operate the windscreen demister. It’s complicated in the new car as it’s all mixed up with air conditioning and other weird stuff, and all the controls are near the floor. I ended up driving home with the heat full on which of course just made me radiate even more heat and sweat all the more. The windscreen stubbornly remained opaque so I steered from memory.

I also haven’t discovered how to activate the rear window demister.

I think it’s getting close to the time to Read The Fucking Manual?