I’m so sorry. I’ve let you down. After years of resisting the pull of Tidy Husband, who (as you may recall), is a fitness guru … I have started moving my body.

Moving my body, as in the form of (sssssshhhhhh whisper it) - ‘exercise’.

I know. It’s a shock. Make yourselves a cup of sweet tea and I’ll explain.

Full on movement was not the first step. I had NO intention of entering the world of (whisper it again) …’exercise’. It was always something ‘other people’ did. I’d listen to them smugly tell me - ‘You will LOVE it Jo, honestly’; and ‘OMG JO, you will feel SOOOOO much better’, and think ‘Ye. Right. I WON’T love it. If you want to jump around getting sweaty, off you go love, I’d rather sit on the beige sofa with my best mates, Ben & Jerry’.

But we had a puppy. And despite hearty assurances from my kids that they would walk her every day – ‘I promise Mum. You won’t have to leave your sofa, honest’ – the daily walks WERE NOT HAPPENING.

I had been told by those in the know that dogs need (sssshhhhh) exercise. It was one of the reasons we had resisted getting a fluffy friend for so long. There was NO WAY I was changing out of my pyjamas and leaving the house. Especially now my dream situation – Lockdown – had finally arrived. NO WAY.

As Lockdown kids never left their rooms, fluffy friend began to sleep in our room at night. Tidy Husband and I spoke to her in a doting way we had never done with our kids. I had always ignored my kids cries of ‘Mum, can we have some supper tonight, just this once, please’ or ‘Mum, I think my leg’s broken.’ However, as soon as I heard the slightest whimper from fluffy friend, I paused Netflix and dropped everything to tend to her.

We trained her to do her ‘business’ OUTSIDE the house, (which I now regret), so first thing in the morning she had to be taken out. Tidy Husband got angry if he had to clean up any mess.

Over time, furry friend learnt that loud and high pitched (but irresistible) whines, together with licking my face and scratching my arms was a Great Way to wake me up every morning.

It began with going for a ‘walk’. This involved her doing the ‘business' and me returning home ASAP. But over time, I noticed that fluffy friend was rather enjoying the time we spent together. This was a new feeling for me. My kids had never enjoyed spending time with me. When they were younger, they didn’t appear to enjoy watching Greys Anatomy for hours at a time and always left to do some ‘playing with toys.’ So, when I realized I was bringing joy to another creature’s life, well, I was rather taken in.

The walks were made more even bearable by the following;

1.      I wasn’t obliged to speak to anyone, fluffy friend hasn’t got a great vocabulary and isn’t much of a talker.

2.      The walks were often interrupted by the ‘business’ part providing the opportunity for me to stand and stare into space for a while and regain my strength.

3.      I could drive to the dog park, let her chase other fluffy things, and return home ‘exhausted’ and unable to do any cooking for the week.

One day, I arrived home at the same time that Tidy Husband was making his way downstairsto the basement. I was between Netflix binges, so decided to follow him to see what he does down there all day.

It turns out he takes Spinning Classes. I still have no idea what came over me, but I decided to sit on a bike.

My legs began to move in time to the music and I looked up to see some nice-looking bloke smiling at the people online. The nice-looking bloke turned out to be Tidy Husband and I quite liked the look of him on the spinning bike. He was sort of fun too, not like he was in the upstairs part of the house, so I decided to stay.

After a few minutes of jiggling about to the beat I began to feel an uncomfortable, painful sensation ‘down below’ in my nether regions. I wasn’t up for that, so got off the bike and returned to my beige sofa.

Little by little, inspired by the funky beat, the nice view of this new Smiley Tidy Husband and the fact that this ‘exercise’ incorporated a lot of sitting down, I stayed on the bike for longer until I reached the ten-minute mark. Not bad for a 60-minute session.

I fought hard against going back, the feeling ‘down below’ was enough to stop me. But assured by Smiley Tidy Husband that ‘that’ feeling would pass and given the promise of a tub or two of Ben & Jerry’s at the end of the next session, I persevered.

Once I reached the 30-minute mark I thought I had actually died. I could no longer move my legs and remained paralyzed in position on the bike until I realized I could slide off sideways into a lying position on the floor. I remained there for the rest of the day.

For me to continue with this spinning lark there were several rules that needed to be adhered to;

My bike was to be readied for me before arrival. I required 3 padded seat covers in order to prevent ‘that’ feeling coming back again. Towels were to be laid across the handle-bars and on the floor to catch all the sweat. A basket of Cadburys Dairy Milk was to be stationed directly in my line of sight for motivational purposes.

I was not required to do any standing exercises or anything that required bum leaving saddle. I was encouraged to sing along to the funky songs if I remained far, far away from the video mic. As I was positioned behind the camera, I was allowed to make sweary finger signs at Smiley Tidy Husband when he shouted phrases like ‘You can do better!’ or ‘Come on, faster!’ both of which pissed me off.

Most importantly, at the end of every session, I was to be picked up off the bike by Tidy Husband (who was no longer Smiley at this point), and carried straight up the stairs back to my position on the beige sofa, where a cup of tea and biscuits were to be waiting.

After all, there have to be some perks to sleeping with the instructor.