The Ministry of Embarrassing Exercises

IT'S been one of those odd days. For ages I've been mentally beating myself up over my lack of activity; looking back on a day and shaking my head in disbelief that another 24-hours have passed and still no effort has been made to raise my heart beat above resting level.

 Today that changed, albeit accidentally. Which is probably the best way to do it. Sneak up on yourself with some form of exercise before your inner monologue has a chance to make excuses and leave the room.

 At work I was invited to the Centre for Alternative Technology near Machynlleth. Knowing that a, it was built in the site of an old slate quarry and b, it was winter, I travelled to the centre, rather smug in the knowledge that I had packed my wellies in an act that suggests I'm prepared, I'm organised, I don't have to totter about in my four-inch heels feeling out of place.

 The fact that I was wearing a bright red coat with a huge purple corsage, and the wellies, which themselves were black with white polka dots didn't seem to matter until I arrived there and realised I looked slightly crazy.

 But my rather bizarre Mary Poppins meets Minnie Mouse outfit was the least of my problems. 

 CAT is built into the side of a hill, and in the past when I've visited, I've sat in the little train which carries you up there. But as it is winter, the train isn't working - a fact I did know but evidently my brain locks away all the useful information I might need and replaces it with songs and nonsense.  

 Which meant I was walking. Up hill, with lots of steps. My attempts to make conversation with the lovely people at CAT quickly fizzled out as my heart rate went into emergency spasms, unfamiliar with the physical activity I was subjecting it to. 

 I even found myself doing that shamefully obvious diversion tactic of stopping halfway up to "admire the view" as I waited for the stitch to subside. 

 But I made it up to the centre, and conducted virtually the entire interview glowing a vibrant shade of red. If it wasn't for the heavy eye make-up I'm pretty sure you would have had a problem distinguishing the outline of my face as it blended in beautifully with the postbox red of my coat. Classy.

WITH my legs sufficiently hating me for the surprise exertion I couldn't let my arms rest so upon my arrival back home I played my new Wii game, Samba De Amigo.

 I'm not sure it will ever gain a reputation as one of those cool games but it made me laugh.

 The idea is very simple; shake your Wii-motes in time to the music like maracas. With a brow furrowed in concentration I shook my funky stuff along to three or four songs before the other half made me switch it off. I think me trying to co-ordinate myself along to Mambo Number 5 was too much oddness for him to cope with. 

 The fact that I had also attracted a small crowd of neighbours outside the living room window, who had all slowed down to witness the car crash sight of me trying to samba with a couple of remote controls in my hands may have played a big part in his decision too I suppose.