Breaking the rules

This morning, I am joining in with Emily and Kelly’s Remember The Time blog prompt.

For some reason, the first thing that sprung to mind is the following story. It’s a bit feeble but I’m just going to run with it.

When I was about ten years old, I had an operation on my hip and spent about six weeks with plaster down both of my legs. A lady used to bring me work from school so I didn’t fall behind. I think, actually, because I didn’t have anyone around me to distract me, I got quite far ahead with things. When I then went back to school, I was ahead of everyone else and bored so I got a bit restless and naughty.

Because my operation meant I had to use crutches for a little while and had a huge healing scar, I couldn’t go swimming. I used to still go along to the swimming pool but would just sit on the side.

This particular day, I had an idea that I wasn’t going with them, I’m not sure why. Then someone came and found me and said I was supposed to be on the bus. So off I toddled towards the school gates to the bus. My teacher, Miss Moore, saw me as I approached the bus and came over and really bollocked me.

She was going, “We were looking everywhere for you. We’re really late now. You’ve held everyone up.”

And this, my friends, is the moment at which I totally broke the rules. I broke the rules of the teacher-pupil relationship. I broke my own rules of good behaviour. I broke the rules of respecting authority. This was the first thing that sprung to mind when I saw that I had to write about breaking the rules.

When my teacher shouted at me for being naughty, I said…..

“So.”

Wowzers! What on earth was that about?! That is crazy talk.

I remember being quite shocked that that had come out of my mouth and being like, “Omygoodness, she’s gonna go mad!”

And even though I’m 28 years old and have done lots of other things in my life, had numerous jobs and lived in many different places, for some reason, this singular incident when I was 10 years old is my first thought when I am asked to write about breaking the rules. 

My new yoga enemies

Today, I was going to finally deal with a Leibster Award I was given a few months back and was looking forward to it as I remember the questions being quite good. I had also planned who I was going to pass the award on to. It all promised to be very exciting. As I have the morning free, I was going to sit here and dedicate myself to it with gusto.

So I went back to the day I was given it, in early September, rifled through the comments and found the one which said I had been given the award. And I clicked on the link, all excited. And the link went to a generic WordPress start-up page with nothing on it. There was one post from 13 November which said Welcome to your new WordPress site. And nothing else. It totally threw me. I know I took a few months to deal with the award… but enough to make her pack in her entire WordPress career?

Hence, I am now a little stumped. I don’t have anything prepared for a post. But never fear! In my massively exciting world, in which I am constantly doing and saying really interesting things, I shall serenade you (serenade?) with a tale of what happened at last night’s yoga class.

I have been doing yoga on and off for about ten years now, sometimes at home from a DVD, sometimes at classes, sometimes just from a book. So I’m familiar with the yoga ‘scene.’ My friend (the one mentioned in this post) and I decided to go to a beginner’s yoga class last night, as she has never done it before. I called up that morning and booked us in and at 5.50pm, we arrived, legging-clad and ready to go.

We walked into the room and saw a bench in a corner, which had a few bags on it, so figured this is where we were supposed to leave our stuff. We approached the bench, put down our bags and were chitchatting while we took our socks and shoes off.

“Are you new to the yoga class?” an older lady asked, as we were taking our shoes off.

“Yes,” we said, thinking she was perhaps the teacher and about to welcome us in a friendly manner.

“Ok. It’s just that usually we go here.”

We were confused. Did she mean that the yoga class was happening over the other side of the room and she and the man standing next to her were doing something different there and we had accidentally left our stuff in the bit where they have a different class? But they had mats down as though they were about to do yoga.

“Sorry, what’s… Is this bit not the yoga?” I asked.

“Yes, this is where we have our mats.”

Let’s just get this straight. An older lady, one who should have known better, perhaps in her fifties, was telling us, in a rather condescending manner, that as ‘new’ people to the class, we should learn that this is ‘their’ corner. Like the naughty boys who wanted the back seat of the bus and woe betide anyone who sat there mistakenly!

I was clearly quite annoyed as we had not even made any moves to give the impression that we were trying to stay in that spot for the class. We were clearly just putting our stuff on the bench next to everyone else’s stuff and taking our shoes off. We weren’t even trying to put mats down or anything. We hadn’t picked mats up yet!

“Yeh, we’re just taking our shoes off,” I said, irritated.

She sensed my annoyance.

“O, I’m not being rude or anything, I just, it’s just that we usually go here. I’m not being rude.” And she smiled politely. As though I wouldn’t notice that she was being rude, simply because there was a smile on her face. I’m not fooled, lady! You’re still being rude, even if you’re saying “I’m not being rude” and smiling! You’re still being really bloody rude!

So we said, “Yeh, we’re just taking our shoes off,” and pottered off to get mats. We put them in the other corner of the room but we were still quite near them as the room wasn’t that big. Everyone else was sitting or lying down, doing a bit of relaxation before the class, being very quiet and concentrating on their breathing. The rowdy ‘naughty boys on the bus’ older couple stayed standing and discussing something or other quite loudly, considering everyone else in the room was silent. I caught snippets of conversation.

“…had sex for the first time in six weeks…. yeh, six weeks…. yeh, she’s not been well… had that fall….”

I mean, really now? You kicked us out of the corner spot that we weren’t even trying to go in and now you’re discussing sex at an unnecessary volume in a room full of silent people, trying to be silent and relax prior to their yoga class. What’s wrong with you people?

So the teacher comes in, she greets us and is saying that she can see a lot of new faces and doing the general ‘hello’ stuff and this silly couple, the ‘naughty boys at the back of the bus who love talking about sex’ couple, keep talking, right over the teacher. As if they’re trying to show everyone who’s really in charge here. It was honestly ridiculous.

So I shushed them.

That’s right. I shushed them.

ssshhhhhHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

It started small but they didn’t take any notice so it built until I was almost hoarse from shushing. It felt good.

The teacher joked that it was like a cinema. I presume she meant people shushing other people for talking through the film or being loud with popcorn. So I admit it. I am a shusher. I also used to do it at uni if people were talking through the lecturer’s teaching. That’s just me, ok? I’m a shusher!

So then the class started and I forgot about my new yoga enemies but as I’m writing this, I’m remembering all over again and am re-flabbergasted. So my friend and I have made a plan. Next week, we will arrive really early and TAKE THEIR SPOT IN THE CORNER! Mwah ha ha ha ha! We live on the edge. And if they say anything to us, we will say, all innocently, “O, sorry, we’re new, we didn’t realise. Well, we’re here now. That space there is just as good, try going there.”

Brave New Supermarket

It’s Wednesday and time for my guest Blogger to take over again. Enjoy it!

I’ve borrowed two-thirds of the title for this week from, as you will know doubt recognise, the famous Aldous Huxley novel. This is not because I’m going to try and emulate his literary prowess but because the words encapsulate what I’m going to write about today. You will need to have a good and creative imagination but I hope you will be able to embrace the idea that follows.

However, before getting “stuck in”, as we say, I couldn’t resist a couple of bits of trivia connections. You may remember the blog on 27.9.12 (The Lion Saltworks and Anderton Boat Lift) which mentioned the discovery of polythene at one of the Brunner Mond Company sites in Northwich (Cheshire). Well, in the 1920s, Aldous Huxley actually worked for a time at another Brunner Mond chemical plant in Billingham (Teeside, North-East England) and it is believed that the name of his character Mustapha Mond (in Brave New World) owes something to his experience there. (Mustapha comes from Mustapha Kemal Atatürk, 1881-1938, the first president of Turkey.) In a previous blog, 20.6.12 (The end of freedom) I mentioned Plato’s The Republic in which he wrote about the way society would function better if people were categorised into different classes. The difficulty for us is that he wanted people to remain within that class for the duration of their lives. Huxley takes up this theme but goes even further with the idea. The State will control the birth process of human beings who would fulfil each of the functions required; further control was to be imposed by limiting how far each person could develop intellectually & physically in order to prevent people moving from that particular class. Now we’re seriously into eugenics.

Ok so back to today’s subject. You remember the blog 17.10.12 (The reality (?) of mobile phones)in which I mentioned my frustrations on a supermarket visit. I was thinking of how, when the shop gets crowded, people are bumping into each other’s trolleys and can’t get to shelves because people are blocking their way. I also did think about a way round this and this is where my new scheme, my original idea, comes in. Before you dismiss it just think about it and I hope you will see the advantages.

The first thing to say is that what you are about to read is revolutionary, in more ways than one. (You will see why soon enough.) Instead of going into the shop you will remain outside at all times. (The outside area will of course be covered so in bad weather you are protected from the elements.)

You begin by backing your car into a marked bay which is at right angles to the shop. Once in the bay a barrier comes down in front of your car which does not lift until you have paid the bill. The marked bay is close to a revolving belt, similar to the idea in an airport at the baggage reclaim but in this case it is horizontal not angled. The customer chooses the items they want from a computer touch screen next to their parking bay and revolving belt. This belt moves clockwise in a rectangular loop into one end of the shop and out of the other. Inside there is a belt down the centre of each aisle which goes back underneath to the start point of the aisle. It’s a vertical loop instead of the horizontal one which takes the stuff outside. There is sufficient space either side of the belt for staff to walk up and down to the items required by the customers outside. It is slightly higher than the main belt and at right angles to it. It deposits items picked onto the rectangular loop which then carries the item outside to the waiting customers who simply pick them up and scan them before putting them in their bags or directly into their car boot. Each item has the bay number which ordered it on a sticky label or tag. The customer then scans it to confirm the order or replaces it if not right item. Once you have all your items you simply press “Finish & Pay”. (Remember the barrier won’t lift on the parking bay until you have paid.) Here is a rough drawing of how the system would look. Please excuse the quality (art is not one of my gifts – and I did say rough):

Line drawing of scheme at supermarket

Of course depending on the size of the supermarket they may be able to fit 20, 30 or more cars along the front. I used 15 just for illustration purposes. I’ve also considered the option of allowing people to send their orders through on the internet with an ETA so that most of their stuff, if not all, can be got ready to go on the belt when they are parked in a bay confirming their arrival.

Now just think about that. No more wandering up and down aisles; no more getting blocked by insensitive shoppers on mobile phones or chit-chatting with their friends in the middle of the aisles; no more queuing at the check outs; no more trolley pushing (so shop won’t need them any more!). How good is that?

I feel a visit to the patent office coming on, followed by Tesco, Morrisons, Sainsburys, Asda (Walmart).

My first bikram yoga class

I went to bikram yoga for a little while last year. Hands up who’s been to bikram yoga? So you guys know exactly what I’m about to tell you. For those of you who don’t know what bikram yoga is, it’s like yoga on acid. The first few classes, it’s mental. It’s a yoga class in a heated room, something to do with relaxing the muscles so you can stretch further in the poses. I thought I’d share my first experience of bikram yoga to make you aware of exactly what is involved in this intriguing new exercise class.

All I knew on my first class was that it was yoga in a heated room. Sounds interesting, I thought. I’ll go along for a trial class. Little did I know.

I was in a t-shirt and leggings, suitable attire for a yoga lesson. I entered the room, found a space for my mat and sat down. I noticed everyone else was dressed in barely anything. All the men were just wearing swim shorts, no t-shirts. The women were wearing little crop tops and tiny shorts. It was like being at a swimwear photo shoot.

I was wearing more clothes than anyone else in the room and suddenly was like, ‘What is wrong with these people? This isn’t a fashion parade. Why are they showing off their bodies? Have these people got no discretion?!’

And then the class started. The teacher entered and turned up the heat and for the next hour and a half, I was a complete mess. If you’d have asked me my name, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you it. My thoughts during the class went something like this….

OMYGOODNESS I’M GOING TO PASS OUT! What is she asking me to do with my leg? I think I’ll fall into a heap and disintegrate if I attempt that. Just keep control of yourself, keep control. I might have to sit down. Water! Water! Ok, let’s get involved again, whoops, stood up too quickly! Head rush. Sit down again. TOO HOT! I wish I hadn’t worn so many clothes now. O no, I think that tickling on my elbow is a bead of sweat which has run all the way down there from my armpit. Ugh, there is a sweat patch on my mat where I’ve been sitting. Ok, get up. Doing some kind of twisting leg and arm thing. Try to concentrate on one spot and keep my balance, the teacher is saying. How can I concentrate?! How can I concentrate when I’m melting? I THINK I’M GOING TO DIE! Can you die of too much heat? If no-one has before, I’ll be the first. I feel like I’ve been in here forever. How long has it been? Omygoodness, only 15 minutes. 1 hour 15 minutes to go still. I can feel delirium setting in. I think my brain is actually sweating. I’m starting to fear FOR MY LIFE. I’m being asked to balance on one leg and hold my hands in prayer position. I can barely concentrate on standing up, balancing is asking a bit much, don’t you think? Maybe I’ll just stand here, not fainting, and that will be my main achievement for my first class. Nope, not standing, sitting. I’ve never been this warm in my entire life….

After the class, I left the room, went into the corridor and leant on a window sill, trying to remember who I was. When I eventually stumbled into the changing rooms, I got into the shower, ran it on the coldest setting and stood there with trembling legs, holding onto the wall, trying to regain my composure.

My next two or three classes were similar to this but a little less messy each time. I eventually got to a point where I could go to a class without having to stop and sit down at all and I could still remember my name when I left the room.

For those of you who are thinking of trying a bikram yoga class anytime soon, let this post serve as a warning to you. Be prepared…!

X is for…

X!

As on the end of a text message, eg “See you later x”. This probably seems pretty straight forward, what’s the problem, what’s to write about? It’s just a kiss on the end of a text message.

Well, this is where my over active brain kicks in. Should I do one here? I mean, the whole message only says “Ok” so does it really need one? But it’s nice to do one. Alright, I’ll do one there.

And should I do it at the end of every message? To everyone? Yes, just do it to everyone, because otherwise I’ll be spending time thinking about who to put a kiss on a text message to. Just put it, as a friendly thing. If people know you, they’ll know it’s just a friendly thing. Ok. But what if I don’t know them very well yet? Say it’s someone at uni, who I just need to text about what time class starts tomorrow? Ok, it doesn’t need one, because they might think you’re being too friendly? A bit flirty maybe? But actually, we’ve become quite good friends now, we sit together a lot and help each other with tutorial preparation. So do I start putting a kiss on the text messages now, after a few weeks? But the sudden arrival of the kiss where there wasn’t one before might arouse suspicion. Maybe they’ll think you’re developing a crush on them? So just don’t do kisses, that’s fine. But now I have to remember to do kisses for everyone else but not them. Imagine if I forgot and did it once but not the next time. That would look a bit weird.

And then there’s the it’s-probably-never-going-to-be-appropriate situations. Like in a professional capacity. I did this once, wrote a few text messages that didn’t have kisses, it wasn’t a friendship-type interaction so it was fine. But then they replied with an x on their text! So I panicked a little and wrote one on my next text, to be friendly back, but that bloody predictive text thing kicked in and I sent my reply with a “z” on the end! So they’d been nice and friendly and written an “x” and I’d replied with an unfriendly you’re-soooo-boring-I’m-falling-asleep “z”. I did it twice more, I’m blaming the nerves, before I just gave up altogether and went back to nothing at the end. I hope they don’t think about their x as much as I do otherwise I’ve really offended them.

And these are the things I spend my time thinking about…. Is it any wonder I’m blogging instead of studying?!?!

Exams in just under four weeks, by the way. I must be pro-active! Today I will learn about theft! And I will be interested! And I will not panic! And it will make sense (ha!)! And I will remember it all!