Charlie did his best to keep to a routine for working out. Some days, when he had been moving things around at the gallery or had covered some hours for the maintenance team, he felt he'd done more than enough and didn't need to, and he was, he thought, generally pretty fit. But lately he had spent far too much time doing paperwork at work and playing gently with Nia and Rosie at home and was running the risk of getting flabby.
So down to the gym he went and began to warm up. Later he'd fiddle around with the weights, see how fast he could go on the treadmill, give the punch bag the beating of its life and see if he could still touch the back of his head with the sole of his foot. For now he just sat spraddle legged on the floor and slowly put his chest on the floor between his knees.
So far so good.