Exercise = Hell

Help. I think I might be ill.

For some reason, I have got it into my head that, with lots of spare time on my hands, I should try to get fit. I don't know why I think this, as I have managed to live 16 years so far getting by on as little as possible.

Also, it's not as if I am unable to have sudden bursts of sheer physical wonder when necessary - Alex can vouch for that.

And so, although, frankly, whenever I think of voluntary exercise my knees quiver a little, tomorrow I shall be waking up at 8 o'clock and going for a jog, before helping my grandmother teach her dog to swim (for the love of Pete, please don't ask).

As I said earlier: help. I think I might be ill.