Sweat and Toil...

...Exercise has, by and large, not been my thing. A decent country walk with the dogs is one thing, but pounding the beat whether on the road on or in the gym is another entirely. My body may be a temple as the Psalmist avers, but all the best temples are in a state of gentle decay - if not actually semi-ruinous - I think you'll find. (If you doubt me then consider the modern temples - sacred or secular - are they not essentially as empty as they are ugly?)

H on the other hand is a great one for the gymnasium: fleet of foot on the running machine, bench-pressing more iron than is strictly necessary, or else rowing half an Atlantic without actually leaving harbour as it were.

The benefits are no doubt many, though to my my idle mind not to compare with the luminosity of spirit a decent malt or Chablis confers.

Tonight, however, I must admit that all this sweat and toil has not been to waste. It would appear that Mrs. Colonel X is also in the habit of spending evenings lashed to some semi-devilish device as does H - I saw them once in a sports catalogue and marvelled just what the Inquisition could have achieved had they only had such instruments of torture to hand.

Over what I believe is known nowadays as a latte - in mine a milky coffee given to children - the two women had been comparing notes as one does. Mrs. Colonel X had, it appeared, been entirely in the dark regarding her husband's judicial forays against the Palladas family [See previous] and it would be fair to say was not overly impressed when she heard from H what had transpired.

Fulsome apologies for the poor fellow's actions were of course given and received with equal grace, and H was left in no doubt that Mrs. Colonel X would be returning home with the sole intention of making sure there would be no repetition of such unsavoury behaviour. (H recalled that Mrs. Colonel X had said that she 'took a dim view' of her husband's behaviour. This was strong stuff and we both agreed that the poor man was in for some sticky times!)

I shall endeavour, as I must, to rebuild relationships with the fellow - mustn't be seen in my position to relish the downfall of an opponent. He has, however, been beastly towards H and that, even if it is over, is not lightly forgiven or forgotten.

Perhaps, therefore, I shall not go out of my way to dis-abuse him of the notion that my witch finding powers are alive and ready to kick in just so ever when necessary! That should make him sweat a bit. Will do him the power of good: he's been looking a little over-weight and pasty for a while!