My readers would know that I’m a very good husband who supports his wife in all her pursuits. I’ve built trestle tables so she could go to her sunday market stall and sell her home made ceramics and dog statues. I’ve eaten my share of anzac biscuits when she was on a charity drive to see if she could raise the money to fix the local RSL hall at the end of the street. I’ve drunk lots of tea to support her Cancer fund Big cuppa tea party with all her friends and work colleagues. I’ve applauded from the shore when she took up windsurfing and spent the equivalent of a new car on boards and kites and life jackets so she didn’t drown. I can still remember watching her disappear across the bay towards Bribie Island on what I thought was a daring exploit only to find out later she didn’t have the strength to turn the board so was stuck going in one direction. We had to call the coastguard to come and pick her up two miles out from shore. And when she got home I was still supportive, making her a cup of tea and making reassuring sounds that she would do better next weekend. In fact I think I’ve never been anything else but supportive about what ever comes into her head. But this weekend she announced she was going to a meditation and stretching class and that I should come along as well because it was clear from my ample tummy that I also needed to do some stretching. So there I was watching my sweet wife lay out her beautiful new yoga mat she’d bought locally and start to stretch for her warmup. I however slinked into the corner and then found to my horror that it was in fact a hot Yoga class where they shut the doors and turned up the heat to thirty five degrees celsius and put us through our paces. I can admit that I made a quick escape after only about ten minutes because the man next to me had started to emit a rather awful odour which I was sure would get much worse as it got hotter and hotter. So I popped off to the pub and waited for the class to finish and met my wife in the car park where she gave me her death stare and accused me of not supporting her quest for mutual exercise. All I could do was admit it wasn’t for me and wish her well in going through the heat the next week. I did notice she was panting a fair bit and seemed quiet peeved I’d been to the pub for a beer. Funnily enough she didn’t go back the next week either.