Not sure why this has happened, but my son has stopped eating pizza, and turned his nose up at the shit tons of crisps (potato chips for those of you living under the cult of the SHITE POTUS) which I bought today from Tescos (its like Kroger I suspect) at great cost. He’s fit as a fiddle and muscular, growing through his sixteenth year at record pace. And over the weekend, with the fine weather and Me and Mrs T away up in Manchester seeing our good friend S and our daughter M and her BF, our son took it upon himself to clean up the garage (car port but with walls) thus exposing and rendering useful the fitness equipment and running machine we’ve had as receptacles for boxes over the past year or so, well at least when the electricity ceased to function possibly due to rats chewing the cables or some other rodent based technical issue, it could be squirrels or mice of course, we live next to fields so we’re not immune. After a long day on Sunday, and an even longer drive home, several medicinal cans of beer and crisps, he threw down the  gauntlet without us realising and we ended up vigorously exercising bookended by the antiques roadshow and the news (of which there is an awful lot this last week due to the Orange menace). Then again on Monday and Tuesday, running and working on our cores, he had Mrs T doing planks tonight and he’s tailoring our fitness or lack of as yet to our own particular talents or lack of. I walk miles daily but my core is weak and my right arm seems to be in some sort of tennis elbow shoulder strain possibly due to my falling over in the shower what seems like ages ago. This was not the plan, I always thought I was pretty fit, but now realise I’m really not and so I think Mrs T probably thinks the same, but we seem to be walking into this good health trap only too willing to engage in physical activity, sheltered from the unsuspecting Clifton public in our dimly lit gym, emerging dusty, sweaty but invigorated by the patient steely determination of our son to get us into shape and who knows, Beach Presentable by August. Watch this space but don’t be surprised if we lapse back into prawn cocktail Wotsits and mugs of milky tea before long. Christ tonight we even both had some Green Tea which, like cocktails, is a load of shite.