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Jan. 22nd, 2004

I think up there somewhere someone or something is determined that I'll never get down to the gym again.

I finished work yesterday (Wednesday) at 3pm fully in mind to go and have a good workout and get some swimming in. I've neglected going since early December because it's been so busy at work and have actually considered cancelling my membership as I'm hardly the frequent visitor I should be. I have weights at home and will be getting an excerise bike when I move into the new place. I'm not a fitness freak (you would be able to tell that if you saw me ;-p) but I like to keep relatively fit. Clubbing helps but it also has some inherant drawbacks (cigarettes and alcohol anyone??).

Anyway, I left at 3pm as planned and hadn't got more than 200 yards from work when I bumped into a good friend (Louisa) and one of us (I have a horrible suggestion it may have actually been me) suggested having a quick pint and chat. FOUR HOURS LATER we're still in the pub and are BOTH wrecked. We headed out for an Indian (which I couldn't eat more than about a quarter of because I was feeling too ill) and then I realised I'd left my bag at the pub. Luckily they'd put it behind the bar for me but it was a bit embarrassing (and they remember the bastards - they joked about it when I went in for lunch today... grrr). I stumbled home just after 8 and went straight to bed feeling decidedly queasy.

So what initially started as a fitness-orientated day (I'd only had a bowl of cereal and some fruit for breakfast and lunch!) ended up being an incredibly unhealthy (albeit much more enjoyable) one. It also meant that I had a twelve hour sleep and didn't have to worry about moping round the flat last night.

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