It’s been two hours and my face is still the colour of a two-year-old tantrum-thrower. It’s quite horrific. And I doubt that I’ll have the full use of my right arm until Thursday at least. No – it’s not embarrassment that has me this way – few things cause me to blush apart from social indiscretions and boorish behaviour – and anyway, blushes fade quickly. Nor is it the results of a bad facial or too much time in the sun (or on a sunbed). This state of red-facedness can be attributed in its entirety to exercise.

Yes, exercise. Badminton in fact. It’s been years since I’ve taken up a racket and attempted to send a shuttlecock into orbit. And I’d forgotten how much I enjoy it. I hate exercise with a passion approaching a religious fervour. Gyms, treadmills, running tracks – I can’t be arsed. But chasing around a court after a piece of rubber-tipped plastic – that seems to makes sense.

I’d heard vague whispers about badminton in Budapest but other than scope out a few courts, I did little about it. I needed someone to go with me. To take me there. And hopefully that someone would have an extra racquet.

Out and about on Friday night, badminton came up randomly in a conversation and by Saturday noon, it was sorted. Hodos Tamás Tollaslabda Csarnok is in the hundreds out on Váci út – probably accessible by the 96, 196, and 204 (all buses I’ve never seen before). It has ten courts and both indoor and outdoor tennis courts. Prices are reasonable and on Sundays you can play for as long as you like from 1pm to 5pm for 1000 ft. Mind you, ‘as long as you like’ today translated into 45 mins. But next time, I’ll be better.

I had difficulty in getting my legs to move my body to where my brain knew it should be (delayed motion). I had trouble in deciding whether the shuttlecock would actually make it over the net or not (wasted motion). And I had that lazy gene that kicked in every now and then with a ‘can’t be bothered’ (no motion at all). But next time, I’ll be better.

This week, as the results of my sleep test showed only a mild form of sleep apnea (I only wake myself up about seven times an hour – nothing to be concerned about) I’m grateful that I’ve rediscovered a form of exercise that I actually enjoy. I’m grateful, too, for the random conversations that happen just when you need them to, for the opportunities that are there for the taking, and for that lovely thing called synchronicity that pulls it all together. Ta Ms L. Much obliged.