Keep young and beautiful

Every Sunday morning, earlyish, I go to a public circuit training class. Its starts at 9.30, come rain or shine - and right throughout Christmas too.

No lycra leotards and body fascists here. (Which is just as well, as I would look very out of place.) Of the thirtyfive or so people who turn up regularly every week, there are nearly the same number of men as women and a 50plus (some weeks, when one man brings his son, 60plus) year spread in the age range of attendees. And the oldest are often among the very fittest.

One thing in common, we turn up.

The instructor is a wonderful woman who I privately term "Ms Matter-of-Fact." There's never any rubbish about "giving it 120 percent" or "feel the burn" or such talk. Instead she calmly puts us through a series of distinctly challenging exercises and expects us to do them. So we do.

And for the rest of Sunday, are enveloped in a haze of self-righteous well-being.