So, to this end, during the 'Twixmas' period, I excavated the Wii console from under the bed in the spare room, where it has been 'temporarily' stored since the great redecoration upheaval of summer 2013. We've also changed our TV since then, and I was under no illusion that our new smart TV would be smart enough to make setting up a games console anything other than tortuous.
How right I was.
First off, the colour coded Wii connectors bore no resemblance to the colour coded sockets on the back of the telly. Fearing that plugging the wrong colour into the wrong hole would explode EVERYTHING, and finding no guidance in either the Wii booklet or the TV manual, I turned to the fount of all knowledge, You Tube.
Sure enough, I found a video purporting to demonstrate exactly how to connect the Wii to our exact make and model of TV.
It was quite long. About 11 minutes. The first 5 minutes was a monologue rant from the chap bemoaning the fact that he'd spent days trying to find out how to connect the two and hadn't able to find any information on the internet. But that he had eventually, through trial and error worked it out himself and was performing a public service by telling others how to do it.
As rants go it was quite entertaining. And by carefully following his instructions I did manage to get the Wii to talk to the TV.
However, the balance board and controller both needed their batteries re-charging so I wasn't able to actually do anything for a further day.
So, finally, the morning dawned when I had decided to get re-acquainted with Wii (un)Fit. I moved the coffee table, rolled back the rug, took off my jumper and prepared to make a start.
Just as I was limbering up, Small Dog sauntered in and stood regarding me, with what can only be described as a sceptical look on her furry little face. I studiously ignored her and continued with my knee bends and stretches, hoping she'd soon get bored and return to her basket in the office.
She clearly decided that there might soon be something worth watching so she jumped up on the armchair and sat bolt upright, watching me intently, scepticism gradually morphing into amusement. Pretending that I was oblivious to her sniggering presence, I soldiered on, selecting my Mii and awaiting further instructions.
That's my Mii.... looks just like me, right down to being shaped like a weeble
I'll gloss over the weighing bit..... it didn't exactly say "Whoa there porky!" but the implication was clear. It even suggested that as I hadn't reached my goal 574 days ago, and had obviously gone to hell in a handbasket since then, that I should re-evaluate and set myself ..... wait for it..... more realistic, easily achievable goals this time.
After a lengthy ritual humiliation, I was finally permitted to do some exercises, but I was rubbish. There was something about the way the balance board went "Ooof" every time I stepped on it which deflated me and sapped my enthusiasm.
I was rubbish at Step (both basic and advanced) , I was rubbish at Boxing. I was rubbish at Ski Jumping. I was so bad at Kung-Fu that it stopped working.
My Mii, prior to being rubbish at Ski Jumping
Evidence of how rubbish I was
To be fair, I've never been really good at any of those, but back in my halcyon days (over 574 days ago) I was BRILLIANT at Hula-Hooping.
I put it down to my ample hips being able to build up a rotational spin similar to a planetary orbit. Whatever the reason I was regularly getting the maximum number of stars, trumpet fanfares and was crowned the Queen of Hula-Hooping.
However, at some point over the past 567 days my Hula-Hooping star has waned and I'm now officially rubbish. I couldn't even catch the thrown hoops.... they just bounced off my head. I was mortified.
My Mii, prior to the realisation that I was going to be rubbish
Needless to say, Small Dog found the whole thing immensely entertaining, especially the bit at the end where I had to have a lie down on the floor until I could breathe properly again.
Small Dog, enjoying the entertainment
I'll keep at it though. I'm determined to regain my Hula-Hooping crown if it kills me.
Which it very well might......