My tennis debut was an utter disaster, but at least I looked good!
Himself is taking this fitness lark a bit too far.
Not only has he made me give up the fags, he's now embarked on a major mission to make me exercise. This has incensed me on two counts. One-I hate being told what to do and Two, I hate exercise.
Operation FagWatch is bad enough. I can't go to the loo in peace without him going in afterwards to see if he can detect any smoke.
My waist is expanding at a disturbing rate. The other night in the space of time it took him to put the bins out, I'd hoovered up an entire bag of cashew nuts.
'Jaysus did you eat them all?' he asked me incredulously.
I shot him a filthy look. 'Well you're the one who doesn't want a wife who smokes so you may put up with a fat wife instead!'
I don't really want to get fat. Does anybody? But I appear to have little choice in the matter. Since I stopped smoking I'd eat the back door buttered. Which is probably why he has taken matters into his own hands and decided to get me off my arse and moving.
So he decided to enroll me in a tennis tournament! This, I knew would be an unmitigated disaster because A) I can't play tennis and B) I can't play tennis. He seemed totally unperturbed by the whole thing and assured me I'd be grand.
'But I can't play!' I said panicking.
'Ah don't worry. Sure you can hit a ball. You'll be fine. You're in the beginners group.'
It's not the beginners group I should be in, I fumed, it's the No Hopers group.
'That's all well and good for you to say! You're not the one who's going to make a feckin holy show of themselves.'
The morning of the tournament arrived and he asked me did I want to go up to the club and practice. I told him I couldn't because I was getting my hair done.
'What?? Why are you getting your hair done?'
'I'm not going up there unless I have my hair done, you wouldn't know who'd be up there.'
He looked at me like I'd finally lost the plot. 'Nobody gets their hair done to play tennis, you're not serious?'
'I most certainly am serious. You said there was drinks afterwards ( which was really the only reason I agreed to do it), I'm not going unless I get my hair done. And by the way, I'm not playing if it rains!'
Unfortunately it didn't rain. I had to play. I double faulted on every serve, even though I didn't know that was what I was doing until someone told me and I lost every game without scoring a single point.
Did I enjoy it? No! Did I make a holy show of myself? Absolutely. Will I be doing it again? Not on your Nelly.
Still, I did have the nicest hair in the bar afterwards!