The Joys Of Natation

Go-faster jammers on, goggles on, stomach sucked in - Big Fat Pig is back in the water. Not at the Fairlawns, which is lovely but about the expense of which I was feeling guilty. No BFP has returned to the waters of Wyndley. No more private natation, instead it is in with the great unwashed, the slow moving pensioners and the rest. I managed only 250 metres yesterday before my form became so poor that I knew I had to stop but, hey, you've got to start somewhere. Bonus - I'd forgotten quite what a righteous hunger swimming gives you.

So leaving the gym was one of my new year resolutions. Tick - direct debit cancelled. Cutting back on the old booze was another - only one small glass of red each week night, weekends as before. Tick. Getting on with my Phd. Tick. I spent my time out of the water yesterday re-reading chunks of Bagehot, interspersed with tomes on literary theory of varying comprehensibility. If you're interested (and I concede there are plenty of reasons why you shouldn't be) I recommend Peter Barry's Beginning Theory.