The other day, making my way gently round the park towards an Americano and a doughnut, I was rudely forced aside by a pack of zealots, many of them elderly, in various states of sporting undress.
They passed me leaving a slipstream of sweat and, for my part, a mixture of guilt and resentment.
The friend I was meeting, to whom I complained, informed me that if I looked a little way beyond the doughnut stand I could observe a class of outdoor Pilates. I didn't look.
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