Will gym ever fix it for me?

Steve tries another tack: "We get a lot of celebrities here. We've even got a few royals."

The thought of mounting an exercise bike that has known the buttocks of a soap star or minor count may entice some, but it puts me off. Public showering is awkward enough without the possibility of scrubbing down next to, say, Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen.

But just as I'm making my excuses, our tour reaches the swimming area. Here, on the elegant glass bridge that leads to the pool, is where I imagine Steve usually clinches the deal. It's idyllic. The pool looks like some futuristic kitchen sink. It's made of stainless steel - reducing the need for chlorine, Steve tells me. Then there's the Jacuzzi, the sauna and the magic machine that dries your swimming shorts. What the hey. I sign up for a month's trial.

A few days into my new fitness regime, I am rather taken with Virgin Active Kensington. Truly, this is modern living. I adore the absurdity of taking the lift to reach a machine that simulates stairs. I love surrendering to the treadmills in the exercise hall, putting Kraftwerk on my iPod and becoming one with the machine. The expanses of Kensington Gardens lie just 100 metres away - but who needs to run past cherry blossom and duck ponds when you can have a view of a sweaty middle- manage r on a crosstrainer?

But it is the swimming area where I spend most time. "Going for a swim" has become a delightful euphemism: I strut down to the big steel sink, perform one length underwater, 10 of breaststroke, one of doggy paddle, then retire to the Jacuzzi.

I find it fascinating. It's always busier than the pool, and yet there is something profoundly lonely about it, all these people lolling about, lost in their "me time". That bald exec - what's he thinking? Regretting leaving his kids for the secretary? The yummy mummy in the corner - what longings?

Funny that we pay out so much dosh to sit in a glorified bubble bath, not doing a jot of exercise, avoiding eye contact. I wonder whether this is a metaphor for our decadent, self-indulgent age. Then I amble over for a session in the steam room, hoping I don't bump into Laurence. After all, I have to make the most of this luxury while I can - next month I won't have a pot to piscine.

THREE GYMS FOR PEOPLE WITH MORE MONEY THAN SENSE

THE CHELSEA CLUB
Fulham Road, SW6 (020 7915 2200).
This exclusive complex offers clients strict confidentiality, so we couldn't possibly tell you who, but given the proximity of Stamford Bridge, bumping into Lampard or Drogba on the rower is a real possibility.

THE THIRD SPACE
16 Sherwood Street, W1 (020 7439 6333).
Soho's supermarket of well-being offers the full package: organic food store, medical centre, ozone-treated pool, power gym, climbing wall. There's also something called a "hypoxic chamber".

KX
151 Draycott Avenue, SW3 (020 7584 5333
According to the tagline on the website, this exclusive private gym is "where evolution happens". So expect to find lots of genetic mutations among the clientele. Renowned for its vigorous personal trainers.