Hello. My name is Train Wreck. You might have seen me in such places as the back of the class at gym today. That’s right. Me. The one with the fire engine face and a quite astounding lack of co-ordination. The one that had to stop and drink water every time they did the double-turn-kick-rhumba-leg-curl-leg-curl-grapevine -easy-steps-and-march-and-march routine. As in, every ten minutes. And more frequently as the hour wore on. ‘How do they do it?’ I wondered to myself, watching Miss Tight-Butt down the front follow each routine effortlessly. My main priority was trying to mirror the person in front of me – not for accuracy, but more so that my haplessly out-of-whack attempts at fluidity would not make it to the mirror opposite where everyone could see them. Luckily no one talked to me. Whatsoever. And it’s a women-only gym, so there weren’t any blokes around to ask if I wanted them to call an ambulance, as they could see I was about to pass out. No. Everyone just dutifully averted their eyes from my glowing face, as sweat dripped down my forehead and my heartbeat pounded – pleading with me to stop the torture.