Hands up who would like to be fitter/slimmer/healthier/trimmer,’ begins a story in the Observer Magazine’s 18 July 1982 issue. ‘Almost everyone,’ comes the response. And what are we to do about it? Exercise machines! Black & Decker has just released a new range, it turns out, and the magazine’s staff have decided to give it a go. There’s a Home Cycle (£113.50) and a Home Rower (£104.25). The Pacer (£47.25), which resembles an upmarket stepladder, has been ‘designed to increase pulse rate, heartbeat, and get the lungs working,’ our writer reports. The accompanying photoshoot has a strict monotone policy, as if users who wear more than one colour might affect the apparatus.
Do the machines work? The staff are optimistic. ‘Exercising at home has several things to commend it,’ we read. ‘You don’t have to worry about the weather, spend time travelling to a gym or sports club, or rely on other people turning up for that game of tennis.’ He has a point, though he soon finds a flaw: ‘nobody really solved the problem of boredom.’ Black & Decker suggests listening to the radio, ‘but several people complained that the noise of their machines made that impossible.’
Did the team like the new equipment? Not really. ‘A very well-made machine,’ says Nick Guitard of the rowing equipment he was asked to sample. ‘The snag is that cruising under oars around the living room isn’t the most thrilling way of spending half an hour a day.’
The rower is no longer manufactured, it seems (perhaps consumers read our story). Neither are the other items, including a piece Guitard actually likes. ‘The Pulse Meter is much more fun – and maybe of practical use,’ he writes. ‘It clips on to your earlobe and tells you what your pulse rate is.’ It costs £69.95 and looks like a statement earring. Why didn’t it catch on?
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