I met an ex-colleague at the garden centre. It was so nice to see her. I think we chatted more than we had ever done at school. She said, ‘I love your blog.’ I replied ‘I haven’t written anything for ages. Now the children have left and the dog’s gone, nothing funny happens.’ I paused. ‘Well, things do make me laugh but then I forget what they were.’ How we laughed.
This got me thinking about when I last laughed – before that day, I mean. I am a happy person these days and funny things really do happen It’s the way you look at life, isn’t it? So thanks, K for making me think about the amusing and happy side of life. This one’s for you.
First, about yoga: I tried yoga some years ago at my local health club and gave up, partly because of a physical impairment but mainly it was the sight of all those young things in their yoga pants and tee shirts. I too had yoga pants and a tee shirt but the effect wasn’t quite the same. And the instructor seemed impatient and somewhat uncomfortable with me there. I didn’t go back and decided that yoga wasn’t for me.
As you know, I’m a practising Buddhist. Lately though, I have looked at other spiritual paths, I’ve meditated, opened my chakras and connected in a very deep way with my universe. It has been an amazing and freeing experience. I still chant but I also meditate and, on the advice of The Little Book of Chakras, I started to practise yoga on my own, watching YouTube videos.
But, I worried that I was doing it wrong, especially given my slight disability. A friend – yes, I do have some – gave me the contact details of the instructor who had helped her, one to one, in her home. As it would cost money, I felt I should mention it to my other half.
‘I’m thinking of doing yoga,’ I said.
‘I wouldn’t mind doing yoga, too,’ he responded. Well, I wasn’t expecting that!
So, a lovely guy comes to the house once a week after his work and puts us through our paces.
Well! Look at us, I mean me? We both have excess flesh in all the wrong places. In some of the positions we struggle to breathe because our flesh is pressing on our lungs. However, our instructor judges us not and we grunt and groan through Cat and Cow, Downward Dog, and various other animals, and we’re getting better. After only three weeks, the poses we used to struggle with, are less of a problem. Also, at his suggestion, we have changed our eating habits. We now eat our main meal at about 2pm then have nothing else until breakfast. This works! I don’t feel hungry in the evening. Whizz sometimes succumbs to a piece of fruit but that’s it. The flesh is reducing gradually and quite easily.
We still have Friday evening drinkies which sometimes (usually) leads to some nuts and cheese, but for the rest of the time, this regime is good.
Pausing to change the subject…
The yoga wasn’t as funny written down as it had been in my head, so here comes something about my mum. As I have posted before, she is often amusing. She is in independent care in a home in Herne Bay and seems happy there. She has always been gregarious and sociable so the company is good for her, especially since she’s been on her own, without my dad. Sociable or not, she tells me in a matter of fact way every time I see her, ‘I don’t get too close to other people. After all, we’re all here to die.’
I used to be treated to lunch in the restaurant when I went to visit. It was a fairly institutional affair with a distinct similarity to a school dinner and pudding. It differed only in that it was served with a glass of cheap plonk, the same temperature whatever the colour.
This time, though, Mum rang me to say that the home had stopped serving guests, so would I be happy with a cuppa soup and cheese and crackers? Cuppa Soup for my main meal of the day? No thanks! I was standing in the car park outside M&S Food when she called, so I told her I would bring some food with me. ‘I’ve got plenty to drink,’ Mum told me, as if that would be a surprise.
I’d just cooked and sliced some beef, ham and chicken so I bought bread and some of those lovely macarons from the chiller, packaged everything up in a cool bag with some cherry tomatoes and an avocado that had been hanging around too long.
It’s a two hour journey from Pebbleditch to Herne Bay, so I arrived at lunch time. Mum said, ‘I’ve got food in.’
What?
‘I’ve brought food, Mum. Do you remember I was outside M&S when we spoke?’
‘I said I’d do lunch,’ insisted my mother.
‘Well, I can’t take this back so I’ll use mine,’ I said firmly. ‘I’ve got some lovely rare beef or chicken, which would you like?’
‘Ooh, beef sounds good.’
Okay, I’ll make beef and mustard.’
‘Do you need mustard.’
‘No, I brought my own.’
‘I don’t eat much.’
‘I know. I’ll cut the crusts off.’
I poured us both a glass of wine and we sat down to eat. My mother was rather quiet – for her.
‘How’s your sandwich,’ I asked.
‘The beef’s nice,’ she said, ‘But you put mustard on it.’