I was doing so well getting back towards my goal weight of the mid-80s. Until Professor Boylan turned up, martinis clutched in one fist, a brace of slow cooked lamb shoulders in the other. I fear to step on the scales and check my weight now – not that there would be much point. I doubt I could see them over my bulging gut.
So this morning the alarm went off at 4:40 AM and poor Thomas was rolled out of bed to join me under the house for a fight work out. He was unimpressed. (Secretly so was I). Still, we smashed it out for 45 minutes, alternating cardio intervals with some heavy bag work and a bit of light sparring. He burned more calories than I did because at least half my time was taken up with the instruction. I'll have to make up for that with another session this afternoon.
Did I mention that I blame Professor Boylan?