My alarm blares at 5.30am and I try and find any excuse under the sun to be able to sleep on.
But already I hear Staff Ferguson barking orders below and have the fear of his wrath (which usually equates to fifty squats).
Even before breakfast (all food is based on an Olympic athletes diet) the men in uniform have us doing a hefty two-hour work out.
If I’m not doing push ups, I’m hurling weights into the air and that’s not forgetting the hour-long run.
Breakfast consists of a measly bowl of granola and some oat milk. Again, if a slug had been put in front of me I’d have eaten it - tiredness doesn’t cover it.
The afternoon consists of military exercises, including scrambling along the floor, hurling 10kg power bags and doing yet more push ups. Needless to say everything hurts.