Tuesday and Friday mornings find me up a little earlier than usual and off on my half-hour walk to Fitness Works at the King Alfred Leisure Centre, in Hove.

As a totally blind professional actor, I can't say work floods my way. It's more a desultory trickle.

That's why, back in 1996, I commissioned the playwright Jonathan Neal to write a new play specially to include me and raised the money to put Oedipus Needs Help on at Brighton's Pavilion Theatre (and also in London).

That's also when I realised I needed to do something about my fitness, which I'd let slip since moving down here to get married in 1987.

Not that I'd worked out when I lived in London.

But there I walked and tubed everywhere.

Also, among my circle of friends were fellow cycling enthusiasts who I'd enlist to pilot my tandem on anything from an afternoon saunter to the annual London to Brighton ride - to a 1,500 mile continental holiday!

Once settled here, however, I found no such cyclists among my new friends.

Of course, I could have approached a cycling club.

But I'd tried club riding in London, only to find the cyclocentric conversation just too much for me. You see, I'm not actually interested in bikes!

Which might explain why my tandem has now fallen gently into disrepair.

So, what with my wife's physical disability meaning we have to use her car considerably more than other couples would (not to mention too much food) by the time of Oedipus Needs Help, I urgently needed to get fit!

Earlier, my wife and I had tried the swimming sessions for disabled people at the Prince Regent pool but found Saturdays from 5pm to 6pm didn't suit us.

So, what about King Alfred?

Swimming again - but at an even worse time!

Then what about the overall fitness training for people with disabilities I'd been told about?

No such thing.

But the supervisor I was talking to did agree to give me the extra induction training and support I'd need to use Fitness Works.

For maximum gain she suggested three times a week - but, yes, twice would do.

It was apparent from the first that I'd need to use my stick to negotiate the roomful of 'bikes', 'rowers', 'pull-thises' and 'push-thats' safely.

I was shown where each piece of equipment was and how to use it, as well as warm-up and wind-down exercises and generally 'looked after' for a few weeks until I knew what I was doing.

Once on my unsupervised own, though, it did take some persuading - even argument - to have the music reduced in volume so I could hear my way clearly about the room.

At first I regulated the timings and set most of the resistances recommended by using my kitchen timer (from the Royal National Institute for the Blind) and asking fellow exercisers to set machines up for me.

But the timer eventually broke and couldn't be replaced and, when I changed to going earlier (which suited me better) it wasn't unusual to be the only person in.

So now I refer to my ordinary Braille watch, which is much more awkward, especially as a couple of the exercises I have to stop doing just to 'look'.

The resistances I simply set to what feels right at the time.

PHEW!!

Now, if I get a big acting job I should definitely be fit enough. Correction: WHEN.