A cautious hello

I’ve been quiet over here, haven’t I? I won’t do the traditional ‘sorry I’ve been awol’ post because, well, reasons, but I am sorry, because I have missed my blog and I’ve missed all my readers. I even had a glass of Chardonnay the other week and nearly did an update and then I didn’t. Anyway. Here I am, and I don’t know if this means I’m blogging again but I don’t know that it means I’m not so I’ll just chat and we’ll see how we go. Does that sound like a plan? I think it sounds like a plan.

So. Readers, since we last spoke here is what has happened: I have been sucked – schluuuuurp - into the yoga sorority and I have bought a year’s membership at Cam Yoga. I am not going to tell you how much that is because I confessed to my brother earlier and even he was shocked, and Dan is fairly unshockable. So obviously you are desperately curious now and are going to google, and when you have picked yourself back up off the floor and rearranged the cat who you knocked over in the shock of the moment, you are going to comment and say, how could you afford that, and the answer is, I could not but they make this marvellous thing called a 0% interest balance transfer credit card and I am bored of being sensible*. So over it! In my defence, it is cheaper if you do it upfront. It’s no worse than a gym membership, honest guv, and if you average it out over the year it is actually just like the veg box (yes, I did go through quite a complicated mental process of moral justification before, and nightmares after,) and by the end of the year I imagine that not only will I have achieved spiritual enlightenment but I will also be able to do a wheel pose. My resolve did not even quiver when I went to Hot Yoga last week and the teacher manoevred me into a half lotus which I don’t think was a dignified experience for either of us, given that we were both dripping with sweat and I have this mental block where I can never understand if I should be gripping something overhand or underhand.

Hmm. What else has happened?  I hit pay dirt at a recent vintage fair – I’ll show you when I’ve charged the camera and found somewhere convenient with wifi. And I’m in the middle of an evening class on physical theatre. I chose this evening class because it was literally the worst thing I could imagine doing so I thought it would be good for me, and do you know what, I think it has been. I walk a narrow line between thinking, hmm, perhaps this is kind of fun and thinking What Am I Doing Do Not Touch Me This Is A Foretaste Of What They Will Make Me Do In Hell. And I’ve been officially told in pole dancing that I need to have shorter shorts. Here’s my advice: don’t google ‘pole dancing hotpants buy uk’ and expect to get something you fancy wearing. I’m 38! I go to Waitrose! I’ve got limits! I’m going to go back to Sweaty Betty and bleat.

I knit something as well. I made Stitched Together’s (can't link on this computer, but, www.stitchedtogether.co.uk) beautiful shawl. I might take a picture in daylight. I’m planning my next shawl now. I might have the yarn for it (examines lapels thoughtfully). I might need input on the pattern (examines lapels thoughtfully again).

OK, so I blogged. A bientôt? We’ll see!

* Even I think yoga is a bit of a feeble way to rebel. Other people do promiscuity and cocaine, I do the Right To Go And Do A Down Dog Whenever I Feel Like It. What will I do for an encore? Get into debt buying sensible pants? Eat slightly more than five vegetables a day? Walk round John Lewis with a bad attitude?