The penultimate week.
Only one more class to go before pizza night and it was a struggle to keep going this week.
Lots of new people turned up so I ended up nearer the front and out of my comfort zone, and who wants to have to stare at my arse as I move as best I can to the bouncing music, and he made us bounce.
No let up for the new folk, and no rest for us hardy souls who have been there longer and I can feel it two days later in the muscles that ache gently with each step but I'm not giving up when the 10 weeks are over.
As long as there is a bollywood exercise dance class to go to, I will be there. And will enjoy the knackered burn that comes from it.
And who knows, it might eventually do me some good!
Because it needs to as I have discovered how much I do weigh at the moment and it is more that I expected, but less than my first attempt on the Boots machine, and I am quite amazed to find that my work clothes and shoes weigh almost a stone.
Can't they put the damn machine some where a little more private when it shouts at you in the middle of the shop and makes every one stare at the fat bugger on the scale as she frantically takes everything out of her pockets in an attempt to weigh just a few pounds less.
Oh well, time to try and be sensible after pancake day.
And so to my promise.
A poem a day up until Easter.
Where do I start.
Well I haven't managed one today but I did write one yesterday after a couple of tasty ales so we shall begin with that.
Last Ale until Summer.
Is it?
Will it be?
Not intending to give it up anyway
But maybe,
Or should I?
Or Not!
Last ale until Summer,
As Spring begins.
As sun shines finally
And a lone butterfly spreads her wings.
Last ale until Summer,
As the blossom blooms.
Everything still soggy, but growing,
In the finally fading gloom.
Last ale until Summer.
That ale is not for me.
For how can I celebrate
Each seasonal change.
How can I eat, or breathe?
With a last ale before Summer.
A strong commitment of will.
But I shall enjoy another,
Slowly every day
Until the Summer becomes still. 4th March 2014
Yes, they will get worse as I start to grope for ideas to poem about and struggle to fit one in my day, but that is the whole point of a challenge is it not.
And no I haven't fallen at the first hurdle by not writing one to day, because I can still write one today and blog it tomorrow. And who is inventing the rules as she goes? Yes, my rules, my challenge, my blog!
And what fun we all shall have! Sorry sister.
But thank you for reading anyway! xx
