Audrey and I went for a jog at the crack of dawn today for the first time in months and we bumped into a woman with whom I was acquainted years ago. She used to look like a mutant version of Jennifer Aniston. This morning she just looked like a mutant.

She was jogging towards me along the footpath that leads over the sheep fields to the Memorial at Crich. I recognised her as she drew near and my heart sank. I used to dislike her intensely. She was the receptionist for a studio I worked in Mansfield and we never got along. I knew to a moral certainty that I was not about to enjoy our encounter.

‘Davy?‘ she panted as she drew near.

‘Well, well. Hello, Kristin. How are you? I haven’t seen you in years.’

‘Fine. Fine. Just moved into a new house in Blackwell with Jeff – you remember Jeff?’

‘Of course. Good old Jeff. How is he, your Jeff?’ I had no idea who Jeff was.

‘Davy, you’re looking absolutely wonderful. I can’t believe it! Really athletic and toned. You must work out a lot.’

Old animosities were suddenly forgotten in the parade of years. Kristin was my new best friend.

‘Well, actually – ‘

‘You must come round to visit. Jeff would love to see you again.’

‘Yes, I – ‘

‘Come to one of our swingers parties. You’d be very welcome with a physique like that.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You’d be very popular with all of my special lady friends – and one or two of my older male friends, too. You’ll make the hairs stand up on the backs of their little legs, you really will. Tuesdays. Eight o’clock.’

I tried to smile. I tried not to say anything. I was afraid that, as usual, in so doing, my mouth would slip and I would offend. But I did say something – and it wasn’t what I was expecting to hear come out of my mouth. It was this: ‘Yes, quite. That would be delightful.’

I think I’ll forget about jogging for the foreseeable future and confine my workouts to the gym in the village. It’s a good gym – small, but good.

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