#80: Do an aerobics class

Lordy, this was everything I feared. A room full of fit-looking, well-coordinated ladies, all in the appropriate garb, all well-versed in the routines and terminology. A mirrored wall that we all faced. A scary instructor clad in lycra, professing everything very easy. Me, in 10 year old running kit, hiding at the back, consistently out of time with everyone else.
aerobics
The instructor assured us it would be fun. I was watching the clock from 5 minutes in. Explanations were given at high speed, in impenetrable language (every move had a name, which the rest of the class seemed familiar with), then the music was on, and we were all off again. Arms and legs were all doing different things. It was entirely impossible. I considered leaving.

I suppose if I were minded to be embarrassed, it was pretty embarrassing. I am confirmed in my view that aerobics is not, and will never be, for me. And I was heartily glad that no one was there who I recognised. But I got through it, after a fashion.

I will not do that again. Not in this life anyway. But at least I gave it a go! Another one down!

#77: Hang out in a betting shop all morning

This panned out ok in the end. I didn’t mind going into a betting shop, but once there I felt rather conspicuous. As if everyone might be looking, and thinking I don’t really belong in that environment!

To begin with I had to find one! I was wandering the streets of Cirencester, picking my way between the antique shops and the classy cafes, and charming independent craft stores, and wondering where on earth does one find a bog-standard bookies?

I investigated a couple of side streets, found an altogether less salubrious quarter that I don’t think I’d ever ventured into before, and happily there was Ladbrookes. In I went.

It was all rather baffling, big screens everywhere, horse racing and football on most of them, and I cast about for some clue as to what I might do next. I have only entered such a place to bet on the Grand National before – without that focus I had no idea what the form was! I had mentally set myself the target of staying for an hour, and actually talking to at least one person.

So I sat down, and skimmed through the Racing Post. It may as well have been in another language. For the first 10 minutes it was excruciating just to be there. I assumed everyone was looking at me, and I didn’t have the least idea how one was meant to behave, or what possible reason I would find for being there. I had no idea how to place a bet, especially on horses. There was one old man scanning all the paper cuttings on the walls, and 2 young-ish men working there. That was it. No one looked ripe for a chat. No one looked as if they would find it amusing that I was visiting by way of a personal challenge.

After a while I acclimatised. And some greyhound racing came on one of the TV screens. I have been to the dogs, and I at least know how the betting works for that. And so I filled out a betting slip for the next dog race. And promptly lost £3. Doh.

I took advantage of the free tea and coffee facilities. How marvellous! Then bet on a couple more dogs. Lost each time. A couple of women were loitering about, and we had a bit of banter about losing on the dogs. Not an in depth conversation, but enough. I took a punt on tonight’s football match. Arsenal to win, 4-0. I will be in the money if that happens. I wasn’t feeling awkward at all by this point! I could have stayed! Except the dog racing was sucking me in, and I’d already squandered a tenner.

Luckily I had booked myself in at the waterskiing lake, so had to make tracks. Here I am trying to take an inconspicuous selfie in Ladbrookes!
ladbrookes