This morning, I went to a gym class. "Morning stretch and tone", the blurb promised. It started at 7.30. Envisaging a group of dynamic, thrusting young things eager to get their daily exercise in before starting work, I hauled myself out of bed.

Oh what a shock I had. Instead of a group of twenty and thirtysomethings, I encountered a motley crew of what can only be described as Silver Surfers. Had I inadvertently missed something? Apparently not. The work people go to work earlier - 7.30 is far too late for them.

So I was left to the ministrations of Tina, the instructor. Again, something of a disappointment. Not a stretchy, life, inspirational being in figure-hugging lycra, but a middle aged woman with one of the largest arses this side of the Missouri. Into the CD player went one of the least energising CDs I have ever had the misfortune to listen to and off we went - on the dullest routine known to man. Excuse the superlatives but it really was that bad. Clearly if I want a pumping gym class, I'm going to have to get up an hour earlier.