Best fun in ages

I suddenly realised going to gym was worth it last Saturday when I went tobogganing for the first time in 15 years. I know it’s tempting the devil to say I didn’t get a stiff muscle or a pulled ligament after spinning around on the steepest hill near our village for a truly joyful hour, but if you have to put up with questions like “what, at your age?” from Youngest Brother-in-law afterwards you might as well boast.

Not that the trip started off so cheerfully. Husband and Sons announced we were going up to Dry Hill. I privately thought “they’ll never get the car up there and I will go to the gym”, but I was informed I was going too, whether I liked it or not. I suppressed all comment as they tried first one hill and then another to make the assault on Dry Hill, only to find the car wheels spinning and retreat unavoidable. Privately I rehearsed the conversation we would be having with the AA: “Well, er, when you ask whether the trip was essential, Husband and Sons have a joint age of 12 and seemed to think it was. No, we didn’t bring a spade now you mention it. Yes, I do agree we are a bunch of irresponsible idiots.”

While pondering this humiliating exchange, an Alfa Romeo was seen to crest the hill. At which point uproar broke out in the car. “If HE can do it in THAT car, then our Volvo certainly can.” With Volvo’s name at stake (Youngest Brother-in-law sells Volvos so we have standards to uphold) Sons heaved the car out. And we made it – to find a cheerful group of 20 or so who had got there before us, including one party with a picnic set. Only in Britain you might think. Best fun in ages.