m i a o w


I went walking…

After living on a 50 acre horse farm for two and a half years, unable to walk to anywhere as the speed limit on the road outside the gate was 100km an hour, I now have streets to roam in. This is a novelty. So is being able to WALK TO A SHOP. Not just any shop. This is a shop that sells BEER as well as milk, icy-poles and newspapers. Very soothing in times of need. There are a curious mix of people living here – retirees, young families and those other breed of people whose purpose it is in life to Drive Utes. That’s right. The vehicles that have more often tailgated and weaved in and out of surrounding traffic more than any other. There’s about one for every three people that live here. That’s a lot of utes.

A couple of days ago, I was able to walk to something else. Three minutes away, in the Yacht Club, was a yoga class. Not something I am very proficient in. Yet. I left Small Z with M, and got there as it started, at 10am. There were four of us, plus the teacher. We were on our mats, facing the window, looking out over the water. I was pleasantly surprised to hear I’ll Fly Away from the O Brother Where Art Thou soundtrack. The teacher, however, was scuffling with the iPod, to try and find something more zen.

“I’ve got this CD at home,” I said, attempting sociability. “It’s great.”

“It’s the Dixie Chicks, right?” said the fiftyish woman with a yoga sinewy body that looked like a serious weapon.

“That’s right,” said the instructor, “It’s the Dixie Chicks.”

I opened my mouth, and then shut it. The music changed to something limp and esoteric.

We began with some lying downy meditation stuff. The instructor was good – she had the soothing tones that I recalled from my until-then-forgotten “Safe Yoga for Mothers To Be” video that I did religiously while being pregnant Minke whale. “Feel yourself loosen, your body is falling into the floor…there are sounds around you…just notice them…and let them go…let the warmth travel up from your toes…let your mind empty…notice your thoughts…and then let them go…”

We’d been going like this for about fifteen minutes; prone, limp and breathing through noses. We were thinking of our spines, loosening and heavy, when the heavy front door screeched open, there was the thunk and rattle of a bunch of keys hitting the floorboards and sliding, and a blokes voice saying, “There’s yer keys.” I think our four bodies all looked like they’d been briefly electrocuted. The instructor, to her credit, merely did an extra deep breath, and continued with her soliloquy. It was a scenario that exactly describes where we live – relaxed, laid back, soothing…with a large helping of BOGAN and BLOKE.


Very VERY bad weather.


Bushfire Housing Site

1 Comment

  1. Your bogan definitions are making me feel really bad for buying the AC/DC shirts at the concerts I just went to…

Comments are closed.

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén