Got your own hips?

Age is no laughing matter. Since I reached the grand old age of 20 (ok, it was a few years ago), the aches and pains have intensified and it's time I did something about it. So I signed up for pilates. To strengthen those core muscles, as they say. Including the pelvic floor so I don't pee myself when I'm really old.

Off I went to the first class, only to do a double take in the doorway. I was by far the only spring chicken there. Let me just say the teacher's first question was: "Ladies, I have to ask, have you all got your own hips?". You're kidding, I thought, but she winked at me so that's ok. I know I have a wrinkle or two but it's really not that bad... not yet anyway...

But why am I writing about this? Simple: they're using these squashy things called "blocks" while working on their pelvis (pelvises? pelvisis? oh, bugger off). You sort of put this thing between your knees and squeeeze! I'm saying "they", because I'm using a folded towel instead. Max wouldn't let me spend £8 on the proper stuff. I know it's only a bit of foam but why, oh why, do I have to be the odd one out in all respects??

Three a penny

Is Max a rare specimen or are there other blokes like him out there? It's been bugging me for a while...

Let me see... I suppose there's Tim, Max's brother. Came for dinner the other day, his bike helmet under one armpit, a bottle of rose under the other. I'm very partial to the pink stuff (you name it and if it's pink, I've probably drunk it) but it must be chilled and it must be good. None of that Zinfandel rubbish. Wiping Tim's sweat off it on the way to the fridge, I eyed the dodgy label suspiciously... But, to my surprise, it was actually rather nice. Tim, very chuffed with himself, said he got it at his local offie, for the grand price of £2.99. Can you even get a bottle for less than three quid?? Apparently, Tim can.

Or Dan, Max's best friend. Loaded but always used to smoke MY cigarettes. Cured that, though, when I proffered him a rollie once (bought if off the local bum especially for the occasion). Spitting and sputtering, Dan popped out to get a packet of Marlboro Lights quicker than I could say "Gotcha!" Never pinched my fags again.

Finally, take George, a business bod and an IT whiz-kid with IQ off the Mensa scale (so, again, not short of a few pennies...) George has canned soup for dinner three times a week, of the 39p per can variety. Out of choice. He's got a wife. Wife doesn't work. Wife can cook.

I could go on - they are three a penny all around me. Rather comforting, that is.

Half a laugh

Max has decided to start halving dishwasher tablets. To help the environment, naturally, not the household budget. I must say I was left speechless for once, when he announced this new measure of near-austerity living but the result was just as good as when one used the whole tablet. How can I argue with that?

Although it filled me with dread, because what's next?

The amount of toilet paper he uses is suspiciously economical already - I suspect he takes half a sheet at a time, then folds it in half, and halves again. He's not started monitoring my "usage" as yet but who knows? I suppose there's always yesterday's papers. Or cabbage leaves...

Half a condom? That would be a laugh...

How about I suggest half a bottle of wine tonight? I normally manage only a glass before he glugs the rest. I'm gonna try that one, just for a laugh...

Kitty, kitty, where are you, kitty, kitty...

According to the BBC one needs £15,000 to keep a cat alive over the course of its lifetime. You know, food, vet's bills, the cattery. We've got three moggies... Max has done a quick calculation... Oh, dear...

Fortunately most days he prefers cats to people so I'm not too worried, but there are savings to be made. Let me see...

We're ok on the cattery front - so far, we haven't had to use one. When we're not there to pander to their every whim, Grandad comes in twice a day to scoop the poop, top up the food, and lock them in for the night. Otherwise, they pretty much look after themselves. Well, two of them do. The youngest refuses to use the catflap and, the stubborn little thing he is, just sits by the back door until someone lets him in or out. Max reckons the kitten is stupid and will never learn. We do try to teach him, pushing him through the flap back and forth, but to no avail: the little bugger doesn't want to know. So, next time we're on hols, this one will probably have to end up in a cattery.

Not sure we can do anything about vet's bills. What's worse, we visit the vet's virtually once a week because all the moggies have something wrong with them: skin condition, gum disease, permanent case of the grumps. Never anything too serious but it does add up. I reckon maybe a small car by now? Max says he might try to ask for a three-in-one discount if we take all three of them together next time.

Foodwise - that's a difficult one. The moggies are fussy eaters and we never know what they'll fancy for dinner. Once I opened three different tins before they deigned to eat the contents (of the third one, that is, the first two were unanimously rejected with annoyed flicks of their tails). The contents happened to be cod in gravy so I sent Max out to stock up. The following day, very pleased with myself, I put the cod on the menu again. The leader of the pack had a quick sniff, no more, and puked all over the offering. All three requested duck that day...

Hang on, yes, at least we don't have to buy them booze and drugs! Catnip does the job most days...

The everyday beauty of being owned by a cat... HMCCAP3ZZEMV

4D man

It appears a new type of man is emerging in 2010, a 4D or a 4 dimensional man. Someone has spent a lot of time and money on that one and concluded:

• he's not as tribal as his predecessors, the metrosexual and the lad (when you were either in with the gang or against it, no middle ground, thank you very much)
• he's increasingly interested in culture (since when watching endless episodes of The Wire makes them cultured?) and is more health conscious (a starve day anyone?)
  
• he's confident, individual and has varied interests and passions (or, rather, inability to finish what they've started...)
  
• he engages with multi digital platforms (whatever this means)
• he's likely to be 15-40 years old (how convenient: the likely reader of men's mags..)

That someone (who did the research, I mean) is a publisher of many a glossy men's mag. Now they want to cater to the needs of that new man and say their titles will be "pivotal in helping the men become more 4D." The advertisers are onto them, too: they want to "reach and interact" with the new man.

So, more pressure to become something you're not and more pressure to spend your pennies on this and that (including the mags, of course!). Thank God Max refuses to be a sheep and doesn't follow the crowds! Might have something to do with his innate dislike of spending money but I'm glad for once...

I haven't quite worked out the 4D thing as yet... Could be a bit of a problem... They were so much easier to control living in 2D: just food and sex...

A birthday cop-out?

I hate the thought of it but there's no escaping. My landmark birthday is approaching - next week I'll be 20... again... (there's a big heap of sand in my back garden - my head has been stuck in there for quite some time now).

I suppose I could console myself a little bit thinking about prezzies... So, what do I want for my birthday? This girl has many expensive shoes and handbags from days gone by, when I had money to throw away... The three wardrobes are chock-a-block with clothes I've got nowhere to wear to as I work from home and hardly venture outside (sob, sob...). I have seen the world, can't be bothered with jewellery, and gadgets scare me.

All this girl can think of for her birthday is some expensive pampering. There's only one problem: Max and his reluctance to put his hand in his pocket. My money (oops, I forgot, I haven't got any) is therefore on one of the following:

1) a voucher for the new salon round the corner (new, therefore 20% off)
2) a Champneys gift set (from Sainsbury's, no less)
3) an "I owe you" note.

Now, that last one, albeit a cop-out and hardly imaginative, is not as bad as it sounds (and I could stretch it way beyond the cost of the first two, I'm sure I could...).

My crowns need replacing (I did say it was a landmark birthday, didn't I?). Would this count as "pampering"?

Starve day

Max has decided last Monday of every month will be his starve day (some call it detox)... To cleanse the bowels and the mind... And his wallet perhaps? Nah, surely that would be too extreme, even for Max?

Apparently one thinks much more clearly on an empty stomach. So, no food whatsoever, just water and tea with very little fully skimmed milk. Or that herbal stuff he always buys that looks and tastes like something swept off the factory floor...

The start was very promising from what I could hear - the bowels cleansing movement could wake the dead. Max was very proud of the results that far and felt "strangely light" (no surprise there, we went for a curry on Sunday night). By lunchtime his good spirits were definitely waning and I saw murder in his eyes when he looked at me enjoying my goats cheese salad. Like, really enjoying it... Well, I could have stayed out of his way rather than lead him to temptation. But I just couldn't help myself, silly man...

The afternoon was a bit strained so I did stay out of his way. I could hear him banging away at the keyboard upstairs, muttering to himself, ever so slightly unhinged by the self inflicted trauma. He never managed to finish whatever he was doing, too frequently interrupted by yet another visit to the toilet. What was that about thinking more clearly on an empty stomach?

I was banned from eating my dinner anywhere near him and the cats had to eat their supper outside. Poor Max, even the sight of tinned cat food was too much to bear...

By the end of the day he was even less lucid, his mutterings getting more disturbing, his stomach no longer growling. "I feel fuzzy," he said and went to bed at 8.30.

I just need to put it on record that he went through a week's supply of toilet paper... Which I kindly pointed out first thing this morning.