Never say never. The last time The Semillons performed in public, I assumed it was just that. But here we are five years later – greyer, slightly fatter, yet still young at heart – preparing to do it all again for prostate cancer.
Why would a man in his late forties want to take his clothes off in public? I keep asking myself the same thing. On an hourly basis. There are three reasons. First, Everyman is a great charity and my own mother died of cancer (liver, not prostate) in 1982. Second, it was such a laugh last time that I’m keen to strut my stuff one more time with the original and new members of the troupe. And third, it’s an excuse to get fit. No one wants to see flab on July 8th, so we’re all trying to pummel the pounds.
Toning (well, reconditioning) your body gets harder as you get older. The press ups hurt more, the dumb-bells get heavier, the rowing machine is an instrument of torture. I’ve been seeing a personal trainer twice a week for six months’ in a vain attempt to look half decent. “Tim, have you done your three five mile runs this week?” “Er, no, Chucks, I’ve been eating and drinking too much on a press trip to Provence.”
Training tips? There is no easy way to get fit, alas. The more you exercise and the less crap you eat, the more pounds you lose. Easy, really. Except that it isn’t. I drink too much wine, travel too much and spend too much time sitting at a desk. With a month to go, I’ve given up milk (soya only for me, yuck) and bread, have cut dow on the booze, am going to the gym four times a week and trying to do 200 press ups a day. 7 pounds to go to hit my target weight of 12 and a half stone….
Some of my colleagues have chosen to go for a full body wax, apparently. I’m tempted, although it seems a bit Chippendales to me. I also can’t quite face the pain of the process. I’ve also decided against the spray on tan after an accident on the night before the last show. I went to get myself turned orange at a beauty clinic, nipped home to have a shower (as instructed), then went out for the evening in a pink shirt. It was a hot night, and I couldn’t help sweating a little at the Bibendum Options’ Night. After an hour, my pink shirt was stained with patches of tanning lotion.
So….a white bum this time. See you there, I hope.
Tiger Tim
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