And this from a mother who thinks that unfurling her arm to turn off the alarm in the morning is exercise.  Ever since I watched that recent BBC Horizon documentary on exercise which proved that 20% of humans are non-responders, it all became clear why Mr. Jules can go to one session at the gym and return looking like Arnie the Filandering Austrian and I come back exhausted and flabby.  It is very unfair and disheartening to be married to a super-responder parading his toned body fresh from the shower  and droning on and on about the benefits of exercise.  He poo-poos the Horizon documentary so in desperation I shout “I’m an estrogen bomb okay?!” (That old chestnut).  I don’t care, I’m just happy that someone has finally recognized us 20 percent-ers.  I now know why I have never, ever, in all my years of jogging, experienced a runners high and why after a year of intensive yoga teacher training I did not get a much wished for six pack or even a one pack.

My idea of a great day is spent in bed with my laptop doing a spot of writing, then perhaps some light reading followed by a doze.

Alexia and Ronnie

Mr. J. is having his portrait painted.

Today he had lunch with the artist at The Chelsea Arts Club.

“Don’t you think it would be nice if we were both in the painting?”

“No…You can get your own done.”

“It would be  nice for the children to have a painting of both of us.”

Silence.

Yesterday we were all on top form.  A reading from a long skirted, hippy girl with profanity and street language evoked this exchange with the twin-setted, pearl wearing, well-to-do matron besides her.

“Sorry but what’s a Jägerbomb?” Enquired the Silk Scarf.

“A shot.”  Replied the Hippy.

“It’s like a G&T.” From across the room.

Silence.

“Without the pearls.”