The Monday after the Paris attacks my aerobics class was interrupted for a minute’s silence. ‘I’ve been told,’ the instructor said, ‘we’ve got to do a minute’s silence. I’m not sure what for... maybe France.’ Before you judge her, let me add that based on her name and appearance I think there’s a chance she’s Lebanese.
So 30 sweaty women in tight fluorescent Lycra sat on their fold-out steps and stared into the distance. Others at the gym leaned against the chin-up frame and hit pause on the elliptical trainer. All except for a lone swimmer with headphones in who continued to breast-stroke round the medium clockwise lane, presumably because he loves ISIS.
