The gymnasium

Hello again. Welcome back to the gymnasium. It's been a little while since we last frequented this place. However, never mind, you don't look too bad for your sabbatical. This gym hasn't changed too much since your last visit. It's pretty much as ramshackle and questionable as the last time you got to use the wet area. So, today I thought we would spend a little minute in the reception vicinity. This area is one of the main aspects of this synagogue of health and fitness. 

The reception area has nearly as many devotees as does the exercise and weights section. There are a number of individuals who enjoy nothing more than to come to this gym to park their flabby maximus' on the worn sofas to have a chat. Perhaps they discuss the workouts they are going to do which, let me tell you, never materialise. These gym shy people natter so long that their throats become dry and they then gingerly request a cup of tea and oblige to a few complementary biscuits. The free biscuits here never last for long - as these chumps gobble them up gleefully then reassure themselves that they were just a quick sugar hit that will be burnt off once they hit the gym. Of course it will. The more mature members of this gym are notorious for sofa sitting and engaging in gossip and silly quizzes. And, also, looking at scantily clad females. Yes, I caught two older chaps with my very own eyes ogling young leotard once. They thought nobody saw them, but I did and they were chuckling to one another then one got a little too excited and required a quick puff on his inhaler. 

I would advise against using the toilet straight ahead, that one there with the rat scurrying out of it. It's hardly the cleanest loo you could ever wish to use. On the few desperate occasions that I have used it I have felt distinctly filthy afterwards. Anyway, hey-ho! Back to more pressing matters. The staff that work here. All to a man these are very nice and amicable attendants. Perhaps too nice - as some 'members' have taken duplicitous advantage of this and have repeatedly sneaked into the gym without as so much having a valid membership or a membership at all. Shocking stuff. And how do I know this pearl of information? Well, I am privy because the knuckle heads brag about it in the locker room. (You didn't think for a second I was one of the crooks, did you?). Anyway, these penny pincher's get away with such behaviour for months on end until the wooden swipe card door decides to work like a proper functioning barrier and they are suddenly rumbled. Que widened eye balls and apologetic,  confused shrugs of muscular shoulders. They are then asked to pay for a membership to which they sheepish say: "Next time," and as the staff are ever so nice they usually always (always) respond with a friendly OK, next time. But there never is a next time. These beef cakes don't return for ages. Until one of their less than erudite buddies informs them that the wooden (somehow electronic) door is currently out of order again. Instantly they feel brave again, courageous enough to try and sneak in and resume their gym activities.

This gym is really quite unique in so many ways - and from your two previous visits I'm sure that has become extremely apparent to you. I suppose it may have left you wondering that if it's so dodgy why on earth do I stay here. Well, ahem, my response, if I am to be totally honest is that it's cheap! Cheap and we're like a wonderfully dysfunctional family. A family with character. Plus, these members are great subject matter. So, folks, on that less than profound note, I have to go. I've got a workout to do and from the way I've noticed you gazing at the complementary custard creams it looks like you've already made up your mind not to join me. Ah well, suit yourselves. Until the next time, friends.

Demola, TCC