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Walkies for two

Janet slips out of bed and silently disappears. Was I snoring again? Maybe I need surgery. Uvulopalatopharyngoplasty? Talk about a mouthful.

Then I hear the front door click. Or do I? According to the clock, it is 6.30 in the morning. Must be the paper boy.

And suddenly it is 7 o’clock, and Janet is coming into the room looking flushed. Am I in a rom com now? What is she up to? I ask if she has been on a dawn tryst, but my teasing falls on deaf ears. Then I see the earphones and the penny drops.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve been jogging. I don’t believe it. When did either of us do jogging?’ But she shakes her head. Not jogging, she says. Walking. Briskly. Once round the block. To get fit.

Now before you go haring off with the idea that ‘round the block’ is a mere bagatelle, I should point out that this block extends half a mile out of the village, up a lane, down to the main road, then left just before the post office.

‘You are fit,’ I tell her. ‘At least you’re no couch potato. You stand up in front of the class all day.’

But she replies that she gets out of breath going up stairs and none of her clothes fit. Plus, there was my remark about the granola.

So it’s my fault. I knew it would be. But all I said was that granola might sell itself as health food but it’s packed with sugar and fat and she would be better off eating a cheeseburger for breakfast according to an article in the weekend mag.

Impossible to unsay it now though. Which leaves me with two choices. Either I tell her I misread that article and invite her to join me in a tasty bowl of organic granola, or I do the honourable thing.

‘Tell you what,’ I say. ‘I’ve been getting out of puff recently. Why don’t we both walk round the block?’

Starting tomorrow, of course.

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