annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary
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Living in the land of the common people
I did another yoga class today and planned to take some fabbo pics to share here the joys of the green and golden hills, the light sparkling on the sea in the distance.
The sea's that way, somewhere:
There's a better view inland:
but not much. It's weird when the clouds are low like that and all the sounds are muffled - the familiar is suddenly in disguise, like stepping into a dream landscape.
The yoga class was hard. The Tuesday teacher takes a very detailed approach - we always start with whole minutes concentrating on how our feet are placed on the floor, for example. This isn't my favourite way of yoga, though she's a walking testimonial to its benefits, limber as fuck and glowing with health. I can do standing (mountain) when I'm balanced and grounded, but when we started on very slow warrior, about halfway through the class, I started to get very dizzy and had to do lying down things till they finished and never really had any more strength after that. I suppose I'm being silly, doing two classes in three days, but surely if I can lug camping gear across fields for hours on end or push an adult in a wheelchair up hill and down dale, then I ought to be able to do five minutes of warrior without keeling over. Whatever. I've done fuck all since I got back and I've booked yoga for over 50s for Thursday as well as the Friday morning class with an hour of qi gung to follow. I feel steady in my head (I do, honest!) and now want my body to catch up.
Meanwhile, writing that down reminds me that the camping gear is still all over the back room, apart from the tents, which I haven't managed to dry out enough to put away since the festival and are currently bundled up in the shed. The big new tent of my dreams leaked and ended up being the tent of great disappointment, as opposed to dear old tent, whose poles I thought I'd lost, but then found again after I'd bought the other one, so lent to M and co, who were dry and snug through all the downpours. We were OK in the sleeping bit of new tent, but all our stuff got wet the first night and we had a permanent lake in one corner. Sewn in ground-sheets aren't much cop when all the water on the roof comes in every time you open the flap to get out. I'm going back to old tent. Daughter and grandson can either sleep in the new one or get their own.
In other news, a seed has germinated in the plug-hole of my sink in the bathroom. It appeared overnight and has managed to withstand two days of me washing my hands and cleaning my teeth on/over/past it. So far it just has those first two bits that look like leaves but aren't, so I can't tell what it's going to be yet. I find myself thrilled and intrigued by this seedling, quite unable to pull it out, though I'll have to, I guess, at some point. My suspicion is that it's a buddleia , as you see them growing out of cracks in walls right up in the air, like three storeys up. Or a tomato - maybe that's more likely, from a seed caught in my teeth that I didn't notice - I eat shit-loads of tomatoes.
My new art class starts next week, hurrah. I don't know what materials I have left, since younger daughter arrived here empty-handed weeks and weeks ago and launched into a marathon obsession project, painting endless portraits of two fictional characters she'd created. It's all in the back room, under the camping gear. And under that is my table, on which I aspire to eat my meals. By the weekend - there, I've set a deadline. Go me, again.
Grateful for: a long chat with D from Glasto; a nice email from yesterday's HB woman, including some helpful suggestions based on her recent experience of finding herself an affordable flat in this expensive city; not being hassled; a roof over my head; the sandwich I am about to make and take upstairs to eat in bed.
Sweet dreams xx
10:09 p.m. - 2011-09-06
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