I’ve had this earworm all week, so now I’m giving it to you: you’re welcome! It’s a song by The Skids, dating back to 1979 ( so I realise probably not an earworm for many of you).
The reason it’s been going around in my head is that my yoga instructor Asher has written a book called The Valley. No, it’s not 101 yoga poses for the beginner; The compleat guide to aligning your chakras; or even Sanskrit for yogis. It turns out Asher is actually a lawyer and all round over achiever.
After excelling at school and flying through law at uni, rather than making a metric shit ton of money and retiring early to somewhere sunny like a normal person, he’s been doing legal aide stuff and writing this book about people who are poorly served by the justice system and society in general. Also, clearly, training to be a yogi, although that didn’t come up in the newspaper article I read. He had long flowing blonde hair when I first met him. Who’d have thought the young man in the short shorts who has been critiquing my downward dog has such depths?
I haven’t seen him since his book came out. I got dragged to a degustation dinner last week, and I suppose he’s been busy going to book launches and things. Not sure whether it would be appropriate for me to tell him my mum was a prison psychiatrist and a member of the Howard League for prison reform, or if that would count as unprofessional fangirling? He’s quite handsome as you can see but is also fairly strict in class. He never looks that impressed when I have a fit of giggles after inadvertently farting during Reclining Hero Pose (Supta Virasana), for example.