This afternoon, I undertake two things that have darkened my hours since l’Ecole Militaire - a haircut and physical exercise. The former because it reminds me of haircut inspection which we had once a month and always carried the threat of demerits followed by marching off said demerits for hours in a blinding snow storm. The exercise is no longer a matter of choice; push has come to shove. I’ve engaged a personal trainer to help me sweat to the oldies and drive me from my lassitude. The reason is simple.
© 2024 John Oliver
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