Buff in Battersea

So I went to the park yesterday, to Battersea Park. I stretched out on the grass, with some snacks and a book (re-reading The Rum Diary, in honour of Thompson's birthday). It was a hot -- they're calling it a heat wave, but I think it might just be "summer" -- and sunny and a perfect lazy afternoon.

But there was something wrong. Something wasn't right with the scene...

A few feet ahead of me, a couple were being taught Tai Chi by a private instructor. Further down, a personal trainer was yelling numbers and encouragement to a sweaty man doing curl-ups.

Old guys with marathon numbers and tiny running shorts (*shudder*) shuffled by, occasionally overtaken by this weird army-training/exercise group -- picture doughy, pale urbanites in numbered jerseys being yelled at by a muscular guy in fatigue trousers.

The place was full of people... working out. It was like reading in a very well-lit gym.

Good god people! It's hot out! It's a park! Let me be fat and lazy without shame!