“I’m absolutely in training.”
It is actually hot. It’s very surreal. It’s as if I’ve stepped into Gatsby as the butler has stepped into the Buchanan’s rosy lounge with cocktails that I turn away, as the Jordan Baker of the piece, saying, “I’m absolutely in training.”
Training in the heat.
Back in the autumn, as the clocks went back and we were plunged into an eternal winter of darkness – I used to worry about being too cold. Then, after finding training in sub zero actually enjoyable, I began to worry about the spring coming and how I would cope in the heat.
Spring never came.
Summer, however, has arrived – quite convincingly. Unless, of course, as many suspect, that this is a parallel universe; back in the real world it is raining and Djokovic won.
Buoyed by the fact that I did not gain a single pound on holiday – miraculous – I threw myself back into the training – naively hoping that the instructors would go easy on us – what with the heat.
Feeling a little sluggish and a little sick after my week of eating EVERYTHING (well, except shark and rabbit – and a pig leg the chef was shaving) – I have been to three training sessions. And it has been warm.
Sweating like Andy Murray.
If it wasn’t a national no-no, I’d almost wish it were a little cooler…
And so, I decide to be Daisy, not Jordan. I look up and see Leo , I mean Gatsby, and say my line…
“You always look so cool.”
Because I sure don’t.