After a Christmas that was fraught with the anticipation of family dramaz (none of which finally occurred, Alhamdulillah!) I have retreated for a week's break with a group of good friends and enough booze to seriously concern the tesco deliveryman.
Costuming has of necessity taken a backseat, because carting a half finished bra and assorted embellishments to a farmhouse in Wales is what is generally referred to as a bad idea, especially after a couple of vodkas and cokes. Instead I am happily engrossed in various crochet projects, including zill mufflers based on Shira's spiderweb pattern.
This is particularly relevant to my interests as I can endure about ten minutes of the clanging chimes of doom before I need to lie down with a cold wet flannel over my eyes. Given one of my troupemates has expressed an interest in choreographing with the blasted things, I need to learn how to play them without sending myself and the rest of the household demented. 2011 will be the year I progress beyond the Gallop!
2011 is also set to be the year I lose 5 stone... or at least a measurable fraction thereof. It has been forcibly brought to my attention that my dancing can only be improved by the removal of at least some of the layers of insulation that swathe my inner Ariellah. I don't please the eye in the same way as my troupe mates, I don't look as good in troupe costumes, and all my hard-learned undulations and super flexible show off moves are muffled by my extra bulk.
It's not just an aesthetic consideration. I run out of puff well before my classmates, and I'm always the first to drop out of drills. I don't really want to be that chick anymore. And think of the money I'd save if I could buy my bras at the supermarket instead of Bravissimo
Such good intentions are likely to be shot to hell before New Year even arrives, as traditionally this week's break involves obscene amounts of eating, drinking, and eating a bit more. I am, though I says it as shouldn't, a bloody good cook, and am usually in charge of the breakfasts (bacon, sausage, fried eggs, black pudding, fried mushrooms, baked beans, fried bread... it's a heart attack on a plate, seven days in a row!).
But but but! We packed the mountain bikes, so I get to see whether Arabesque balancing skills transfer well to muddy singletrack, and the barn in which we're staying has a gym, which i have already visited today (first time on a cross trainer in about 5 years). And, most exciting of all, and the reason I'm even able to talk to you, is that Mr Noor bought me a spanking new shiny laptop for Xmas which has sound(unlike my old desktop), so I have an internet's worth of music, drills and motivation at my fingertips.