IT SEEMS that there are an increasing number of studies, surveys and so on, often with surprising results.

Who would have thought that swimming classes help children to do better at mathematics? (Report in daily newspaper, April 20) No, I do not understand it, either, but the fact that I have never learned to swim may explain why I was always bottom of the class in anything involving figures.

The study is yet another example of the national preoccupation with sporting activities.

As far as I am concerned, I can only get excited about a cup if it holds a drink, and bringing back the ashes if something we do after Great-Aunt’s funeral.

I do believe in the value of exercise and of spending at least part of each day, summer or winter, out of doors, but on my own terms.

I love to garden, can walk for miles, climb a five-barred gate with ease and even indulge in a spot of rock and roll in the privacy of my own home, but I have always hated competitive sports.

Oh, those mind-numbing PE lessons at school, knees turning blue under shorts, flapping arms about in an effort to stay warm while trying to look interested if somebody managed to bash the ball in the right direction or chuck it into the net.

Summer was marginally better with rounders, but I never could get the hang of tennis, with its odd terminology – to quote a pop song – ‘What’s Love Got To Do With It?’ When I am walking, I love to look at clouds and note the changing seasons but often I come across somebody indulging in the occupation known as jogging. Apparently, this consists of donning a remarkably unattractive outfit, blocking out sounds with earphones and panting, snorting and sweating around a chosen course.

The worst time of all is when that extraordinary event known as the Olympic Games takes place and I feel sometimes that I am the only person on the planet not to become hysterical over somebody’s ability to run a fraction of a second faster or jump an inch higher than his competitors.

Susan Gow

Overcombe,

Weymouth