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Sunday, 20 May 2007

Relaxation

Parenting is just the most stressful thing. Indeed, I run to work every day. In my opinion teachers should all be Knighted or honoured in whatever form is appropriate to mark outstanding personal sacrifice to the nation.

Last year in an effort to reduce our stress levels and become nicer kinder parents, my good friend Vashi arranged for us to join a yoga class at "the local comprehensive school you pay for". We bought ourselves super trendy new yoga outfits, mats and water bottles and headed enthusiastically to the sports centre.

We bounced into the studio, where it seemed every affluent menopausal lady in SE21 was stretching eagerly in anticipation of the forthcoming exertions. Honestly, if women must wear their diamonds to an exercise class, they should at least ensure that they are clean and sparkly.

When the instructor Adam eventually arrived, the fawning students drew a collective intake of breath. Every woman in the room (and they were all women) appeared to be completely in awe of him. Adam began the class with an excessively lengthy description of his recent holiday on the Italian Island of Stromboli which he informed us was volcanic, erupting virtually on the hour. He was rather too obviously suggestive in his chronicle of pyroclastic flows, and made me feel slightly nauseated with his excessive depiction of the phallic fiery emissions and his sense of "oneness" with "primal mother earth"...

When he detailed Sciara del Fuoco, and his "night time ascent" I almost swallowed my veneers!

Adam, was wearing rather too close fitting cycling shorts, and a well washed organic cotton off white T shirt. He had a head of untamed sausage curls and two hands full of chunky arty looking silver jewellery, including one of those enormous silver wedding rings on his thumb.

We began to assume our various stretch type positions, while Adam worked his way around the class, admiring the various positions the women achieved, from far too many contrived virtually gynaecological angles. At one point the beast was suddenly behind me and clutched my bottom in order to ensure that I was stretching and relaxing in the appropriate areas. I swear I had constipation for a week afterwards. The ladies in the class seemed to positively relish Adams physical attentions.

When the other students began to let out moans and groans as the various positions were achieved, I wanted to laugh out loud. The last time I heard such involuntary noises I was living in University Halls in the late 1980's...

At the break I expressed my feelings of unease to Vashi who was rather dismissive. Her attitude changed dramatically however when Adam was over familiar with her inner thigh during the second half of the lesson.

I saw a not dissimilar scenario played out in Eastenders recently when the yoga instructor was over familiar with the character played by Barbara Windsor. I wondered when watching that episode if it had in fact been written by one of the other students who attended Adam's class. I swear he will get himself arrested one of these days.

8 comments:

mutterings and meanderings said...

Comfort yourself with the thought that certain yoga positions make the poseur involuntarily release trapped wind ...

lady macleod said...

m&m!

Funny stuff. haven't we all met this guy? yuk. I love the way you told the tale, the details are wonderful.

dulwichmum said...

Dear M&M,

You know, now that you mention it - some of the noises I heard could just have been...

Sweet Lady Macleod,

He should have been ashamed of himself. I was hoping he was unusual. I shall continue to find my source of relaxation in a wine bottle.

rilly super said...

Dulwichmum, I hope the barabara Windsor allusion is not a way of suggesting that you experienced a 'carry on camping' exercise class flying bikini top type incident during your exertions.

I think you are very brave to try something so physical like this. The only way I could last more than five minutes with my ankles behind my ears would be if someone came around to supply me with a large G&T and a long straw.

Marianne said...

So, is yoga the new sex?

beta mum said...

Sounds more fun than the yoga classes I did at school.

debio said...

Oh, Dulwich Mum, sounds more like induction to a religious cult....try kick boxing - an accidental lunge in his direction will quieten his erupting volcano!

dulwichmum said...

Darling Rilly,

You can be sure I shall never engage in these exertions again. Once was enough, even if it came with a bottle of Krug and a straw as an incentive - no, no, NO!

Dear Marianne,

If yoga is the new sex, I am not doing that either!

Sweet Beta mum,

That was obviously not a convent school you attended.

Lovely Debio,

It was rather like a religous cult, as the students were all devout followers of the rather odd leader...