We’re heading into the last week of Ramadan here, and this year, it’s really been a treat for me. I love Ramadan, and I’ve blogged about it before. Of course there’s a huge amount of religious protocol to be observed and for my Muslim friends, it’s significant in a different way. For me, as a non religious bod, it’s wonderful to be able to embrace the social aspect – iftars with good friends, catching up with people, great food, and home by 8.30 to collapse on the sofa – what’s not to love?!
And for the first time in three years I’ve actually, more or less, managed to work reduced hours – a blissful 10-4. This has never happened before and is such a treat. To be in the gym (yes, the gym) for 4.30 means that you can exercise, feel smug, AND have social life and be propping up a bar by 8. Rather than falling through the front door at 8, which is sadly so often the case.
We’re already lamenting the end of Ramadan and the short sharp shock that will be a 10 hour working day. I’m determined that my rigorous gym schedule won’t be compromised, but really, you’re a better woman than I am if you can face the gym at 7 am or 8 pm. Which leads to only one conclusion: boot camp. Whilst it pains me to even utter those two little words, I fear that it’s the only solution. That, or this young man. Watch this space.