Astanga Girl

A weekend characterized by technological frustrations. My flash new phone eluded attempts to synchronize with the PC and so all new images lay trapped within. I seem to have configured email on it wrongly too, so messages get lost in cyberspace - but how silly to think I can't blog without an image? Other more successful activities - managed to get through a full hour of Astanga Yoga which I unwittingly entered into (thanks Foz!) I'm much more of a Hatha girl, a few poses and a bit of deep breathing is enough for me, but once the dynamic posture sequences began to it was waaay too late to back out. Especially as I had crammed my mat into the last remaining space so there was no dignified way out. I guess I could have sat out a few sequences, but hey - you know it doesn't work like that. Alarm bells should have been alerted by the fact that a good percentage of the class was occupied by athletic looking young men, and the class was taught by one too. There had to be more to it than just a bit of gentle stretch and relaxation if these gym bunnies had put down their weights for an hour. 10 minutes in and I was actually sweating - downward dog / plank / 3 body parts down / cobra, up to downward dog / plank - and so it went on. But a sense of pride definitely was won by actually completing this marathon. The teacher gave one of my postures a slight adjustment but apart from that left me alone, so I must have blended in OK, although by the end I was urgently trying to find some slack. Into Lidl afterwards for some well deserved fruit and nut, home to a shower and then stare into space and enjoy the Endorphins. Mustered enough energy to make a chicken risotto, which was my most successful yet. Think the secret was I didn't rush it this time.
Last night was quite low key after the high point of a double-gig at the Queen Elizabeth Hall (and Foyer)on Friday. Worm in most excellent form and the Woodentops, who set the seal on an incredibly atmospheric and harmonious night, as well as a chance to see some old faces (no pun intended.) Just one solitary little trick or treater knocked on Saturday(or his Dad did, judging by his height.) He was very proud to show me his outfit, which resembled a very pudgy 'skeletore' and his sword which he pronounced 'got ghosts in it' - it made a choral moaning sound which would certainly have kept me up at night at his age (but then, I was scared to sleep in the same room as one particular doll, so that doesn't say much...)Luckily I had been baking experimentally and Graeme had won the argument about whether a banana muffin should be iced (everything should always be iced being his motto.) The little chap looked pretty pleased with it and off he went. I took this to be a good omen as the last couple of years had seen a depressing absence of trick or treaters - probably due to the middle class cliquiness of the neighbourhood - they were all at cosy fancy dress parties with bat fairy cakes and organised games, not in the nasty old street or knocking on (god forbid) doors of normal people who didn't own their own houses. Back to the TV after that for the new series of 'The Thick of It' which was the usual hilarious study in anger, humiliation and political machinations. All in all a nicely balanced weekend of small triumphs and ultimately insignificant frustrations.