I have no balance this week.
Only general aches assault my bones but I am unable to centre myself, my concentration is patchy and I cannot relax into the moment.
Ah, the stresses of Bollywood exercise.
But the question of balance stretches further into my life, the balance of work and leisure, the balance of indulgence and abstinence, and the balance of hops and malt of which I found two great candidates for the lovely balance of the brewers art at The Three legged Mare on Sunday.
The first has been a firm favourite ever since York Brewery have been producing it every February and that is Nordic Fury
A lovely warming red ale full of soft bite and a touch of sweetness that dances through the malts and flows beautifully over the tongue.
The I tried Smoked Porter, one of York Brewery's Great Walls of Fire to celebrate the brewery's opening 20 years ago.
I was surprised to find it malty brown rather than stout black but the hops that had been smoked before they flavoured the beer did not disappoint, and I could almost smell the smoke in my hair from the bonfire, and taste the rich treacle parkin in its glowing heat. A very, very nice pint.
Thank you for recommending it to me my friend.
But my third area of balance lies in my active imagination.
What words do I start with?
What stories to I continue with?
What tales do I transcribe in to typed writing that others can read?
And all the other projects in my head that throw me in to dithering indecision until the day has ended and I have managed to do nothing yet again.
Yes, I am a hopeless case, but I am going to, with the groans of my sister still ringing in my ears, try and write a poem every day after pancake day.
I will blog them, however bad they are, and they will be bad.
This is the fourth or fifth year I have tried this and never quite managed it. Work has always got in the way.
But now I have made this a very public challenge, who knows how far I will get.
We shall all have to wait and see.
Thank you for reading xx
