Following on from the playground accident (referred to in my last post) which resulted in a trip to A&E for emergency chin repair, I realised that our bathroom cabinet is woefully lacking in first aid stuff.
Today, however, the cabinet is positively bulging after spending yesterday's lunchbreak browsing around the very large chemist shop near my work. I never realised what pleasure could be had in pawing through the extensive menu of first aid remedies, creams, lotions, potions, sprays, dressings, ointments et al.
I hope it will be a long time before I have the chance to use my shiny new dressings scissors, the spray on plaster stuff, the spray on 'stop the bleeding' stuff and the various cartoon covered plasters, bandages and paraphenalia; but if we need it, I've got it covered.
The same determination now needs to be applied to some first aid for my own body. It's been two babies and then some since I last saw a gym, and straightforward denial is no longer sufficient to stop the realisation that something has to be done.
So I have joined a gym and last night saw my first session. I scurried around the edges of the room looking for a piece of equipment to use which was least visible to the other toned and honed gym bunnies. I ran for a whole three minutes before nearly coughing up a lung, then managed a fast walk for the remainder of my allotted time. It was hard but given that my level of body fat is roughly equivalent to that of a chocolate fudge cake, smeared in butter then fried in lard, I will give it my best shot.....