“I have the body of a man half my age. Here, feel this…”

Like iron, isn’t it? Solid iron. Or carbon fibre, maybe, which is lighter and has 10 times more strength for its weight. Yeah. Abs of carbon fibre. A six-pack like a superhero’s forcefield.

They say it gets harder to stay fit as you get older, but I’m living proof that it doesn’t have to be that way. I benchpress twice my weight and do 50 chin-ups to a high bar before breakfast. Stamina, too – Ironmans, the tougher the better. Age is just a number, and the numbers that count for me are mileage, or reps of a circuit.

Input counts. For me it’s protein shakes, carb mixes, maximised vitamin serums. Restaurants are out – I can’t spend that long sitting down, really, I just seize up – and, let’s face it, the pub is for losers. I used to go clubbing years ago, to show off my physique – the disco years were fantastic. My glutes are still firm enough for shorts, no question. Go on, have a feel. No? Suit yourself. But my hearing’s not what it was.

People – mainly my husband, Ralph – say that I never talk about anything else but workouts and fitness. To be frank, that’s probably true. But I just find my health and my physical condition, and especially my abs, fascinating, and so does Ralph, at least when I ask him for an opinion on my latest area of physical sculpting.

I’m not bothered about conversation much, anyway. I spend most of my spare time in the gym, where most people are too busy working out to talk.