My husband has recently taken up ‘jogging’ again. I use inverted commas because by his own definition, jogging is more like a ‘shuffle’. And I had to giggle when Strava automatically named one of his jogging sessions ‘Afternoon Walk’. Regardless of whether it’s a walk, a shuffle, or a jog, his return to exercise has been absolutely excruciating for me – all the groaning about sore muscles, various injuries, the very fact that he has downloaded Strava… it reminds me of the depths of our middle-aged, middle-classness. Ugh.

Lionel Shriver’s most recent novel, The Motion of the Body Through Space, was a roller-coaster – I was laughing hysterically one minute (with husband saying, ‘What’s so funny?’)

…he was bracing both hands against a wall and elongating a calf muscle. The whole ritual screamed of the internet.

And shuddering in grim recognition the next –

…Remington was actually upright, albeit draped over two chairs at the dining table, hands dripping from his wrists in entitled fatigue. Continue reading →