chewing the fat

‘Morning honey’ 

‘Oh, Morning boys’ I said to my gym buddies, Richard, Mark and Alan. All three chaps were retired and the fittest looking septuagenarians I had ever seen. Seriously athletic.

After the school run, I love nothing more than going to my local council-run gym, the 'Better gym'. What a great name. It definitely does what it says on the tin as my dad likes to say. It felt like such a release getting back into the gym after years of disjointed exercise that comes with having a baby and not putting yourself first, but I was completely over that phase and was delighted to put myself first. At first, I noticed subtle changes such as a slightly depressed appetite. Shall I have that scone or naughty piece of cake with my coffee? No, I won't. And then the swarms of energy and all-round better mood which I had become completely addicted to. That rush was like nothing else. It has also been the place to have a really good belly laugh with so many people. I had picked up the nickname 'chatty Cathy' in a short period of time as I felt as if my old self was back.

On arrival at the gym, I gravitated towards the running machine, keen to at least get started on my routine before chatter got in the way.

One of the members, David, eighty-four and a former publican who had known my grandparents loved to joke with me 'Are you running off all that wine from last night?' or ‘Are you going to exercise any other part of you today but your mouth?’ but I took it all in good humour.

After completing most of my routine today, I headed over to Richard who loved to refer to me as ‘writer Rebs’ as he knew of my secret passion for telling stories as well as my day job writing scientific articles. 

Greeting me with a sweaty hug and kiss Richard said ‘How are you Rebs? Family ok?’

‘Good thanks me dear. How are you?’

‘Oh, you know I’m ok.’ He said in his subtle Birmingham lilt.

‘How are your family?’

‘Oh, they’re ok. Sue's not great so I’m thinking of booking a little getaway to Italy. Maybe Positano as she just loves it there and is really very good at the lingo.’

‘You’re so sweet Richard. She’s lucky to have you.’

‘Morning campers’

‘Morning Alan’

Alan was a retired former marine who surfed up and down the coast …from north Cornwall right up to croyde at the tip of north devon. In true surfer style, he didn’t like to disclose his favourite places to surf. ‘We, the surfing community always fear outsiders coming on to our turf.’

‘You are funny Alan’

‘I know, I tell you what is funny. My eldest son went on a date last night with a girl from his sixth form and he said it was an absolute disaster.

‘Why?’

‘Well he said they went to the cinema and he had to pay for both tickets/ drinks and popcorn.’

‘Oh dear, Romance is really alive.’

‘That reminds me of a hilarious tale I heard at the Appledore book festival recently.

‘What was that?’

'Deborah mcdoggah was taking one of those coffee with the authors sessions. She wrote the book about that group of friends who go to India for their retirement. What’s it called?'

'Oh yes the best exotic something or other.'

‘Yes exactly. Anyway, she said as a lady in her seventies, she was finding it hard to date. She had been set up with a friend of a friend and agreed despite being very doubtful about the whole thing. She had agreed to pay for tickets to a West End show and he could buy dinner.

She said she’d been horrified after forking out hundreds on two tickets to a Noel coward play as he’d taken her to a seedy Chinese restaurant with a special ‘all you can eat offer.’ The relationship was over as soon as he took out his false teeth and placed them on the table and then got a toothpick to pick out the bean sprouts from his gums.’

Richard and Alan were in hysterics and I was almost crying with laughter at the thought of such a horrendous sight. Love it. 

Alan turned to me and said, ‘so have you had any disastrous dates?’

‘We’ll Alan, now that you mention it …there was one…’

‘I must have been twenty four, twenty five. Newly single after my first proper relationship fizzled out. I had been out in Oxford with my friend Lisa who was a bit of a drip but harmless and she wanted to meet her brother after one of his football games. He was with his mates in some ‘towny’ bar and after too much vodka, one of her brothers friends had taken my number. I can’t remember anything other than he was quite good looking, slightly resembling a bit of a chunkier looking chachi from happy days. 

'Come on Rebs. We haven't got all day. I need to pump some iron.'

'ok, ok sorry. He took my number, rang me up a few days after and asked if I'd like to go for a drink at the Cock n Camel. Don't interrupt Richard with some naughty joke. I know you of old.

We met up and soon after he headed to the bar and then off to the toilet. I didn't know what to do so I ordered MYSELF a drink and a few moments later a chap and girl turned up and asked if I was Rebecca. They then apologised and said he had a habit and he had left to find his dealer.'

'What the..' said Alan.

'I know. The strange thing was the couple seemed so stright. They took my out for dinner and then the chap asked for my number at the end of the night.'

'oh you have lived a life haven't you.' said Richard.' I think we should all go on a gym trip to the pub. It would be a riot.'