tenderness, PT, monsoon

 Tenderness by the Thames.

In the distance on The Common, I see a group of people doing PT, specifically the exercise which we used to call astride jumping. PT or whatever it is called nowadays is usually far from my thoughts, but the sight of a group of people throwing their hands up and leaping into the air at the same time induces some mild nostalgia. It always used to make me feel rather silly, but rather silly is state from which I am rarely far removed nowadays.

The taxi driver and I discuss the variability of the weather during the short drive across the town. "It's warm; it's cold," he says; "it's windy; it's wet; it's monsoon."