It’s been quite a weekend in our house. Both of my children have fallen foul of the winter vomiting bug and so there have been rivers of sick to clear up over the last few days. Bless their little hearts. It’s horrible being sick isn’t it, although I do still think it’s preferable to a spinning class……

However to lighten my mood I thought it would be a great idea to have my free session with a personal trainer first thing this morning. Now I'm not looking for romance clearly, so we're not talking Madonna and Carlos Leon here, but I would like a smaller bum. So no pressure then. I’d signed up to meet a charming man called Lawrence, who very gently persuaded me to warm up by belting seven bells out of some boxing pads.

Well that was inspired! I loved it so much, I am already planning to have a go at boxercise classes. I got to wear pink boxing gloves – what brilliant marketing that is. And I got so into it that I found myself almost chasing this poor man around the studio. He did look a little afraid. Especially when, having taught me to jab and hook, I announced solemnly that I would have to practice on my husband. I’m not sure he believed I was joking.

It was a great warm-up before heading off for the Kinesis machines. Now I don’t know about you, but I think they sound a little bit like something out of Star Trek. But I was shown, with great patience I might add, how to do some exercises that will tone up my core (essential obviously). Tone up my legs and bum (again essential obviously) and stop my arms turning into a pair of bingo wings. So essentially this machine is a miracle worker……or it will be if I can remember how to use it.

After some vigorous sit-ups and some more concise and confident advice, my half-hour session was up. It certainly did the trick, as I am seriously considering signing up for some more sessions. In fact I was on such a fitness high I marched straight on to a spinning class…… who’d have thought. And I didn’t feel sick once….. now that is a result.

However I wasn’t entirely free of vomit. I returned home to find my husband on his hands and knees scrubbing the floor. “What’s wrong?” I enquired as gently as I could. “Have the children been poorly again?” “No,” he replied grimly. “I came upstairs to get the bucket for one sickly child, only to find the cat throwing up. He’d eaten some grass….apparently.” Ho hum. Happy days.