I remember sitting in a tree at the age of fifteen, thinking that adulthood was very boring, and all anyone ever did was sit around, talking. I then and there vowed to climb a tree every day for the rest of my life.
Well, that resolution didn’t even last a day, as I promptly forgot about it, and when I did remember, many months later, there were other things going on in my life taking up my attention so I didn’t bother with it then, either. Lucky we aren’t answerable to our younger selves.
Last week, I was lying on the floor in shavasana after a particularly vigorous yoga session, and instead of being mindful, I was thinking that the parts of yoga that I really enjoy are the salutes. Don’t get me wrong, yoga has been great, and I have no plans to give it up. I can’t remember the last time I had a muscle strain. But the salutes, when you move rapidly through a series of poses, are quite fun. So, I decided that maybe I should sign up to a dance class. I enjoy dancing but I’ve never been any good at it. Only twice in my life have I been approached by a strange man on the dance floor, and both times it was to say my friend was a very good dancer, and could I introduce them? We didn’t have dancing at our wedding, so we didn’t have to learn how to waltz for our first dance. Maybe I was missing out?
So, last Thursday evening I turned up to watch the class I was thinking of joining. It looked quite doable, although it seems like I’m going to be severely handicapped if I don’t bring a partner. I haven’t actually asked Simon but I’m sure he’d rather have his testicles slammed in a drawer than learn partner dancing.
I recognised one of the other participants, and during a break I went up to her and said hello. She didn’t recognise me at all, which took me aback. “It’s your hair” she said, gesturing vaguely at my head. I’m pretty sure I had hair back then, but I wasn’t going to argue. “Are you still in Island Bay?” I asked “I still dream about living back there.” That’s what I tell everyone, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, and it might be true. “Oh, but it’s changed! It doesn’t have the same lovely feel anymore.” And then adding, narrowing her eyes and lowering her voice “Cycleways…” She looked at me then with raised eyebrows, clearly an invitation to start bitching about those darned cyclists, but I just smiled and nodded and changed the subject. One cycleway on one very wide main road ten years ago, and it clearly still rankles. Sad.