Sunday is not a writing day for me, but as I was on my treadmill this morning (Yes, I do try to exercise. Sitting on my bum all day isn’t good for the joints!) thinking about a part of my book that I’m not happy with, I came up with a solution and jumped off to write it down. Three times I did this. And the thought occurred to me that I could do with a tape recorder or something similar, to record my thoughts when I’m pounding the treadmill. Perhaps I ought to put in on my Christmas wish list?
Actually the treadmill’s a bit of a contentious issue between me and my husband. He bought it me because he said I never got any exercise. I had used to go for walks but somehow it dropped off. Perhaps because it’s no fun on my own. So when it was new I duly used it every day. You should have seen me the first time. I thought I was going to fall off. And I still can’t do it without hanging on like grim death. My sense of balance is atrocious. Always has been. Even as a child I could never roller skate.
But the thing is I don’t do it every day now. If I’m not writing I insist that I’m getting exercise by doing whatever else I’m doing, housework, gardening, shopping, ironing. Surely they’re all forms of exercise? Come on, girls, stick up for me!
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