Fulfilling day

Yesterday (Tuesday 19/02) was a fantastically healthy day (until late evening, at least, when we went for a meal at friends of M&N’s, and pigged out on ice cream.). I had a healthy muesli and banana breakfast, and went to the gym at noon with N for my second workout. I really pushed myself on some exercises, including trying some new machines, like the pec dec, which is a killer, but very effective. The good thing is that it feels good now, 24 hours later, and although I can feel where I’ve exercised, it’s a positive, firmer feeling, not aching or painful. I’m getting hooked. Pass me the creatine!

The gym was much busier at lunchtime than it had been on my first visit (at 10pm last Wednesday – the gym is open 24 hours). There were quite a few drop dead gorgeous, huge hunks, but there were others there more in my league, and even – gasp! – some women, so it wasn’t too bad. I’ve realised now that the muscle Marys aren’t likely to laugh at people like me for only attempting relatively measly weights, because they’re not looking at my machines, or me. They’re far more concerned with the mirrors that surround the whole huge weights room.

I finished off with 15 mins cardio cycling and a five-minute sauna and felt incredibly refreshed for the rest of the day. After making some sarnies for the beach, N drove the two of us (M was at Uni, working, the poor boy) to a beach about 20 minutes away. Well, two beaches actually. We stopped at Camp Cove. Now pay attention here, the name is not what it seems, but take the five minute walk along the cliff path to the next beach, Lady Jane, and there it all is – the gay nudist beach. Not quite all nudist, much to the delight of myself and N, as there were a couple of lads in very nice Speedos, but mainly, so I had to join in eventually. However, this is the British ‘I’m going to sit on my towel and take my shorts off very quickly and hope that nobody notices’ type of naturism. It was most definitely not the ‘Hey, look at my cock! It’s floppy, it’s still massive, and it’s SWINGING from side to side!’ type of naturism that one particularly hairy and pectorally-endowed man was displaying. It was so hot on the beach that going in the sea was a necessity, and it was lovely. The water wasn’t cold and there was no seaweed, turds or tampons. It’s so un-British, and the sand is golden too. So I added a bit of swimming and cliff-walking to the exercise regime of the day – there’s no way I’ll manage to keep this up.

In the evening, just as we were debating what/where to eat, we were invited round for drinks, then upgraded to dinner, with another couple called M&N. I’d met them last week at their new house, and they’re very nice, and good fun; one Aussie and his Canadian boyf. The food was lovely, as expected because N is a chef. They had their English friend there who only arrived yesterday, although we didn’t get to meet the friend’s boyf, as he was nursing a toothache back at their hotel. Have now realised that the group of eight who will be sitting together (and probably partying together) on Mardi Gras day includes a Nigel, a Norman, a Neil and a Nick, plus Mark and Martin. Too much alliteration already!

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