Three of us met at the gym. Three grown men. Zero sense of direction. Off we jaunted, weaving in and out of housing estates, Martin regaling us with tales of his jeffing, Richard with tales of his son's projectile vomiting, and me with tales of world class half-marathon running.

We arrived to greet the other three angels to get to scrubbing. Sallyann helped clean the cooker hood, or would if she could have reached, Jess is training to be a celebrant so she can officiate Goodgym socials, and Leanne is training to be a personal trainer because merely being a martial arts instructor she is worried she might not be able to completely kick my ass.

We polished off the cleaning (get it?) with the shiniest unit you have ever seen, blinding the Von Trapp family.

We set off to run back, thankfully Leanne showed us the way to go so it was slightly less of a distance back. Great work everyone - and remember, Moto pizza this Sunday at 9!