2003-05-10 - 2:49 p.m.

Things I did for the first time in the Florida Keys:

Helped out with some stranded whales: �I say helped.� What I mean, of course, is �went to have a look at and stood around like some kind of hapless sea mammal voyeur whilst proper people got in the water and did something productive.� Five Pilot Whales had washed up near the shore and for two and a half weeks, people had not gone onto work and stood around pouring water on them and feeding them, which was kind of heartwarming. I mean, I bitch about having to clean my fish tank out, though I like to think I�d probably take the afternoon off if FreemanHardyWillis or Ken washed up somewhere they shouldn�t have. The woman directing operations reminded me of the bus driver from South Park and she wouldn�t look anyone in the eye. She apparently does these things as a matter of course, without the need for sleep, toiletries or coherent thought. It�s very admiral, but can you imagine living for beached whales? That�s, like, altruistic. And shit.

Had a facial: And not in a hotjizzonmyface.com kind of way. It was part of the horribly taxing research into spa facilities that we were forced to undergo. I have to say that the woman administering the treatment didn�t inspire huge amounts of confidence, sporting as she did, a bruise on her cheek the size of a small tangerine � perhaps the result of battling with a particularly feisty bottle of vitamin-enriched toner? We also had massages from a wide variety of probing over-tanned crones though I couldn�t relax for worrying about how much small talk you�re meant to be making.

Snorkelled: I saw barracuda. I got out of the water.

Kayaked: I ended up tangled in a mangrove island. I got out of the water.

Went on a �stress management� day: Having just lounged around in a sun-drenched paradise probably isn�t the most effective time to go � it�s not like my blood pressure would even have registered on most basic medical equipment by this stage. We rolled up to a beach house to meet our stress manager Donna, who was all blond curls, positive attitude and surgically applied lycra outfits. First off, she made us do yoga on the beach so that we could look at the ocean and at least take in some natural splendour whilst we contracted terminal sunstroke. My peace-infused nirvana was routinely spoiled by her slavering mutts, taking full advantage of their company being in unnatural positions and snuffling their way into previously inaccessible crannies.

After the yoga session, I was ready to have a cardiac-baiting conniption, so the seminar was ultimately pretty timely. We were sat down with an intricate fruit smoothie and a copy of our �Voyage to Heart Intelligence� manuals � seemingly there was to be a �spiritual� aspect to this, rather than, as I had hoped, just being taught a variety of strangle holds that you could discreetly apply to anyone that happened to be annoying you. The inside cover had an �inspirational� quote from Julius Robert Oppenheimer, who of course invented the ultimate stress management tool when he unveiled the atom bomb.

Firstly we were asked to list the things that were really important to us (I wrote �time off work� and �reasonably priced bars�) and then the things that stopped us being able to appreciate these (�the need to pay rent�, �draconian domestic licensing laws�) and how we felt when we could or couldn�t indulge ourselves. The stunning revelation that �frustration� and �sadness� were �negative emotions� and that �happiness� and �fulfilment� were �positive emotions� really blew me away and I felt that my voyage to heart intelligence was well on the way, though I was ready to stop off and chow down at some kind of roadside fast food joint, I have to say.

We broke off for the aura-cleansing experience of a three mile bike ride in ninety-five degree heat before returning for more of the positivity enema. There was more self-congratulatory guff about how we�d managed to identify �failure� as �a bad thing�, then we were given a practical guide to dealing with stressful situations. We were asked to visualise a situation that we�d rather not be in, something that surprisingly provided very little byway of a challenge, especially since the pooch had resumed its exploratory mission. Donna told us, if for �told� you read �stumbled through the manual like an illiterate baboon�, that when stressful situations arise, you should call to mind a time you were happy, or a scenario that would make you happy. At least I was told later that�s what she�d said � I was daydreaming at the time of lying in a hammock being bought cocktails and written requests for physical attention from a steady, nubile stream of minor soap nymphettes.

We were then hooked up to a machine that was to analyse our positive energy by seeing how far we were �breathing through our hearts�, which I suppose would at least give my lungs a bit of leisure time, and gosh knows they could use it. As you breathed in, a sensor on your finger set off three coloured bars in the screen, which would rise and dip according to the levels of serenity sensed. Red was bad, blue was neutral and green was good. Donna and her lady munchkin assistant from Alabama (who had been previously restricted to serving us up plates of shrimp) told us not to expect too much, and that most people would show large amounts of red, and that it ad taken them years to have green show up for the majority of the session (about five minutes).

My colleagues sat through it, most of them getting lots of red, mostly blue and a bit of green, which Donna and the gimpette were audibly impressed by. I took my place to great cynicism, having already been pegged by everyone as a nowty old sod. An amazing thing happened. Not only did I immediately register green, but it stayed on 100% green for the whole 5 minutes, never even dipping once into neutrality, let alone the hated negativity. Well, you can imagine the scenes. I was being hailed as some kind of positivity Christ-child, and though they didn�t actually say �it is the one who was prophesised�, you could pretty much tell that�s what they thought by the way they were frenziedly saving my data. I allowed them to touch the hem of my garment, all the time thinking that it�s either faulty software, or the effects of hearing the words �we�d better get going soon� just before sitting down. Lord knows it isn�t anything approaching satisfaction or being at peace. They asked if I meditated, though were unreceptive to my �only on what brand of cigarettes to smoke on my regular drinking sessions� response. Still, it�s nice to know that my voyage to heart intelligence was a short one, though I�m pretty sure I took the wrong bus.