AFTER seven hours sat on your backside, what better way to revive yourself than a spot of physical, and mental, exercise in the gorgeous Clent Hills?

When that nice Mr Smith from the Harlequins Orienteering Club invited me to a Monday night meet, I replied instantly - and then made sure family and friends knew about it.

"Orienteering!'' they'd reply with an evil chuckle. "But you can't...''

Read a compass? Return to base without taking a massive detour? Yeah, I know.

Mr Smith, aka Jeff, was very encouraging. He lent me a thumb compass, told me to mark the control points on my map as accurately as possible and waved me off on a yellow course.

This translates as "easy, using simple linear features such as paths, walls and streams. Mostly used by under 12s and family groups.''

Should make light work of this then, I thought, trying to boost my rapidly sinking levels of self-confidence.

All went well at first. After charging up the hill from the car park, I found the first marker (eventually) and was on my way.

This was great. Running on soft grass made a welcome change to the roads and paths I usually plod round and even my notoriously stroppy calf muscles seemed to approve.

Spotting a marker was akin to discovering an egg on my primary school's annual Easter hunt.

I found six with relatively few problems but then it all went downhill - literally.

After hurtling down a narrow path with thick foliage on both sides, I ended up in Clent village. Not part of the plan.

I'd come so far, only to let myself down on the final stages. Alan Hansen has a word for it - woeful.

I sheepishly shuffled back to the car park to be greeted by sympathetic words and smiles. I wasn't the first person to get lost and I knew where I'd gone wrong, which was a step in the right direction, if you know what I mean.

Did I fancy tackling the orange course now? I looked at my watch. It'd be dark by half nine so I didn't really want to chance it.

While the experienced runners reappeared through gaps in the trees with loud shouts of "finisher,'' I chatted to Harlequins regulars.

Membership secretary Ruth Bylett told me their ranks are 350 to 400-strong and cover a wide age range. Once you can toddle, you can tackle a simple 'string' course.

So please don't be put off by my hopeless attempt.

What I really enjoyed about orienteering, in contrast to my usual jogging sessions, was the fact I had something to concentrate on - and look forward to on the way round.