Why, Daisy Bobbins!

 Kapow! and she’s off with the sewing intentions of Kidston herself with the all stitching, all dancing Singer machine (courtesy of Santa himself Mum and Dad, and available at all John Lewis stores). Two stiff Americanos down and six pages into the manual but what the bobbins? Seriously, what are bobbins and do they sew things up 'reel' nice?

I have gone through the instructions carefully, citing the make-up and function of the bijillion notches of my Singer. Which, by the way is proudly stood on my rackety, newly named, 'Work' desk. She (Singer) is blatantly eying me up with scepticism, laughing hysterically between my erratic foot pedalling. But I am determined to make friends and eventually arm in arm, (hands in plasters), fortunes.

Having wound my bobbin and thread my needle (without using the automatic function might I add)  I am set. Although am I? Where does the manual say 'Ok Daisy all set, leave the needle and bobbin thread trailing behind to the right...and sew, sew, sew like there's no tomorrow' ?

I would suggest that all sewing machine manufacturers compile a final checklist for user manuals, a ‘You have reached your destination’ of sewing navigation. That way it is abundantly clear when total morons like myself, completely new to these crafty, and dangerous, antics embark upon them. 

This would also save me having to badger the girls at work who, clearly brought up correctly, are innate sea mistresses. 'Ah yes of course, the upper thread tension!'...WTF?

I am yet to rid myself of an inherent intolerance to sewing, my Ma denies all knowledge.

Nil by mouth...I think not!

So when is it too late to make introductions at work? 

I only ask as today washing my hands in the ladies I ran into the same girl for the third time before 10.30am (well, our weak bladders are in sync). Each ocassion sharing the same guilty slash awkward look slash smile. Only because that moment to say "Hey we have not been formally introduced, you must be new, how's it going?" or "Hi my name is..." has long gone. Right? WRONG.

It is so easy to bury your hellos into the thundering sounds of the dyson hand dryer but you know what, doing the right thing, the personable thing is much more fun. Wild even. 

Who says you have to give your real name and function? Mix it up! I joke, but seriously just go ahead and wow this momentary stranger with a bright smile and enunciate.  Whether they mirror your bold efforts or not, guaranteed they'll remember slash avoid you next time.

And P.S I am big on consistency as well as manners, so what's with the sloppy hello/ goodbye routine? Everyday and to every man, woman and child you come into close proximity with I say. Surely it's a given? Surely its just good working practice? 

By rule of thumb I work to the following philosophy:

Reviewing When God Was a Rabbit: Trehaven, the lost and found, and a brother above all.

It is not the early incident with Mr Golan that establishes the relationship between Elly and Joe, the uncompromising and unabashed walls of their playing grounds are bound by bigger things. Things for brothers and sisters of this world.

I got love for my brother, sure. And those moments of loathing are totally natural, fleeting...minor even! But I am instantly envious of the bond between this two. Such closeness is rare, not unheard of but something beautiful and protected.

I love Joe's 3 am phone calls, knowing glances, the 'Sharon Stone' placard, shared expressions, shared secrets, friendships and that unconditional knowing. Elly is exposed to a world beyond her years, one that never seems to welcome her, but it is Joe who, with the gift of God the rabbit and Jenny penny, encourages and excites her potential.

Their life is littered with bizarre episodes which conflict with the beautiful landscapes and the natural world that surrounds their Cornish haven.This novel is as much about the rise and fall as it is the lost and found.

If you are not moved by the scene of events then Winman's budding characters are sure to rouse a smile. Nancy is a rough cut diamond who we see just enough of, her performance is winning because her role as Aunt is genuinely, haphazardly brilliant. In many ways she is more inspiring than Elly's parents.

Elly's best friend Jenny is the wild card, drawing us events beyond chance and understanding. Just as I find her eerie I imagine her bouffant hair and grazed knees and see that she is a child, even in adulthood. She is unfairly forced through her years falling victim to heavy, heartless hands. Ever the optimist though, it is Jenny who fossilizes a magical friendship which is completely and selflessly mirrored by Elly:

"I let her have her moment. That uninterrupted moment when she could dream and believe that all I had was hers" 

p. 69.

A debut that looks at relationships; encounters (momentary, exhausted, elaborate) and then those that you just can't possibly be without. Right up my street, Winman has my vote.

When God Was a Rabbit

 A Christmas stocking filler that sixty pages in has me hooked, and knocked me side ways with childhood nostalgia. I will follow this post with a final review once I have managed to put it down. But so far this, recommended by Muma read, has really beckoned memories. Winman’s own, or rather Elly's,  are relatable and others not so. Such as naive friendships with elderly, male neighbours (big on the dementia front) and dodgy Womble spottings. Thank rabbit!

Her depiction of being exquisitely intrigued by anything away from the norm is so familiar to me, especially those insights to family lives outside my own where 'umm' words and scandal were a casual constant.

It didn't take much to baffle me, but when it got serious-  adding peas and carrots to Spaghetti Bolognese (must be error) I was transfixed by how different families could be. Friends who knew the innards of divorce, had two of everything or nothing of a lot of things, dads firmly positioned at the local pub, the Porche Boxter pick up, these were totally alien to me.

Elly’s urgency to understand and be equal part to adult conversation, identity, wisdom and wit is also just as mine was. Hearing half whispers and wonderings then making my own juvenile assumptions would all too often get me into a tummy knot.

Pangs of angst at the likes of school plays, school moves and school scraps are all hideously and wonderfully memorable too. As are the first glimpses of experience. Oh yes- finding the first traces (or tatters) of porn whilst staying at a friend’s, her brothers we later learnt. Game play, river jumping, cow-pat pies, back combing, combating, den making and generally being kids about the countryside is so resonant!

I have endless memories: my brother pulling off a cat’s tail recently loosened after being caught in a car wheel (accidental of course) was classic, his look of horror/ wizardry is something I will never forget.

Nor my twisting a friend on a swing, winding her higher and higher only to release into an awesome spiralling, verging on nauseating, blur...which with it released a mass of her hair. The balding look was not in that year!  My sister’s obsession with collecting moving slime from the undergrowth, which actually explains her OCD hand santiser tendancies of now.

I could go on and on, and as I scour the pages I am unconsciously filled with memories of my own childhood whilst envisioning the events of our heroine's too.

I love the way that Winman talks about her people, those that are every part of her memory and make up. Of her Mum: ‘Her glass was not only half full, it was gold plated with a permanent refill’. I can just sense that there is much to come from this new novelist and the pages I have yet to turn. *and back to the book!

Bikram...Oh ye Gods!

Ten reasons to try out Bikram yoga!

1. Hot damn! 

You sweat more in this 90 min, 105°F class than EVER before. Work hard, stretch hard and yes on the odd evening you’ll want to die hard, but just push through. 

2. Touch your toes. 

Never did my 5ft 10 inches allow, but the heat is solely used to enhance flexibility so that once you've warmed up the sky is literally the limit.

3. Walk tall.

Posture becomes something that you ooze. No more 'shoulders back' glares (yes mother) because you naturally assume an alignment that goes beyond the 26 pose (Asana) series and into the everyday. 

4. “Stretching and pulling equals simultaneous’’

...this is an equation that any mathlete can master. Heads up though guys, this takes time.  Be it the balancing, standing or floor series you will soon find it’s less an art of collapse and tug, more stretch and pull.

5. Mix it up.

Ladies the numbers are pretty even so who knows what Bikram might bring into your life, besides preventative medicine and a svelte tum? As an excellent remedy for the knees and ankles it draws in the likes of rugby players. That's right my last class was DELIGHTFUL!

6. Pfffft to any notion of ‘perfect’. 

Leave body hang ups at the door, along with emotional baggage and the food shopping you picked up en route. There is no judgement. Focus on you and not the supple specimen you think is laughing at your cockle ockle standing bow. She's not I promise!

7.Any age CAN do.

Clichés aside- it really is never too late to give Bikram a go. Last week there was a 73 year old standing tall beside me...err WOW!

8. Max and relax.

Class opens up windows that allow you to shut out life’s torments. It’s a cleansing and purifying practise; yes the sweat runs that Mac-up right off, along with nasty negative energy. 

  9. Sleep, drink and be merry. 

Hydrate as much as possible beforehand so that you’re well quenched during class. Learning to breathe in and out through your nose is paramount, get this and you WILL ‘have a gay old time’.

10. Do it your way. 

Buy a drop in, monthly or annual class pack and take advantage of induction offers (these will vary with each studio). Either way, fall in line with friends, lovers or loathed enemies. They won’t be haters for long.

 

If you have not signed up after my ten point wonders then you clearly need a dousing of MJ. That is Mary Jarvis, when it comes to personality she’s got it, and this completely transcends into amazing yoga practise.

I have added to this blog post since meeting Mary. She taught at Bikram Choudrey’s Yoga College of India in San Francisco for 10 years so she knows the man, the guru, the mantra and the practise like few others. Her story reveals how a dedicated relationship with yoga has shaped and safeguarded her. One inspirational muma! 

Mary has been in the UK this March judging the UK Yoga Asana Championship 2012 which was held in Richmond. First of all this competition was absolutely WOW and just what any striving yoga bunny dreams of being part of. Our studio had a fleet of competitors who trained their sweaty butts off to muscle up and sharpen up their postures. All of whom performed amazingly! 

Now I ain't no Son Of A Preacher Man, but Bikram is without a doubt to do with body AND mind. "Ha"-sun, "tha"-moon, "yoga"-union. A union: a meeting of body, mind and spirit. Before finding my two feet standing tall in my local studio I would have totally rolled my eyes at this ‘mind and spirit’ chat, but now I am all in. This dual strength is what makes it a preventative medicine that betters every system of our body, get Bikram into your universe!

Mary’s workshop was hugely inspiring. Something that has really stuck with me is her drawing light on the person we become in the moments between giving 100% to each posture where we practice savasona, 100% relaxation. In this moment we find ourselves, see ourselves, and are that person that perhaps no-one else knows. So powerful, and so interesting to see initial glimpses and over time a profound presence of ourselves. A stronger, focused, fearless person.

What is so powerful about this yoga series is that idea of present moment because it is unknown and undiscovered. Not until you charge your body into your posture do you know what you can achieve. 

The body is an INCREDIBLE, WONDERFUL thing and if you do what you can on any given day that you choose to practice...THAT is the most honest art of Bikram yoga and YOU.