“You can’t wear that, you’re too fat,” the panther says, watching me put on my gym shorts and top.
“I’m wearing it,” I say, not looking at him. “You’re not even meant to be here. Go away and…”
“Ah, but I am meant to be here,” the panther says, stretching his front legs and extending his back. “I’m right on time so…”
“You’re spoiling my holiday,” I say, sliding my feet into my trainers.
“It’s my holiday too,” the panther says. “Let’s go to the beach.”
My brother picks us up in his car and takes us to the beach. The sea is beautiful:
Then I meet brother’s trainer for some functional training at the beach. We do some horrible things with the little skateboard such as forward and backward lunges and the abs exercise in the picture. Also do kettlebell squats and jumping up and down on and off the bench and frog squats, rolling the medicine ball and jumping forward for five squats then backwards for five.
Get very out of breath which is apparently because functional training uses all my muscles. Trainer is pleased with me and says that I’ve worked hard.
Then sit at a restaurant near the beach and read my book:
It’s by my chum Clare Mulley who did the biography course on my MA with me. It’s about the two female pilots in Hitler’s airforce and it’s just wonderful. Recommend it.
We have lunch at the beach and after lunch I sit in the sun for a few minutes. Would look less fat if had a bit of a tan.
We go to the supermarket and then they drop me back at the house for a sleep. Rest but can’t sleep.
Am drinking coffee and writing this sitting up in bed. The panther lies next to me, resting his heavy head in my lap. I stroke the soft back of his neck.
Am going to have a bath and wash hair later.
Happy Sunday everyone!
*1941. By Agatha Christie. The twenty fourth Hercule Poirot detective novel. One of my favourites.