I am going to an intermediate ballet class this evening. Considering I haven't dug my ballet shoes out from the deep, dark depths of my cupboard since second-year uni (er, that would be five years ago), this could be mildly entertaining. (If I know anyone in the class, I'm leaving.) But am determined to get back into it and be the supple, leggy, wiry, sinewy-calved yet delicate creature I was in my school days! So, apres work I shall be pas de chat-ing round the makeshift studio up the road. And in this muggy, humid heat I'm not looking forward to the imminent sweat patches across my leotard. Further more, my quads are already suffering from strain as a result of extreme over-exertion in yesterday's jazz class after mastering a jazz kick and a double pirouette. But I've committed and I'm going. Plus it will take my mind of the fact that I still haven't heard back from Fiddler on the Roof...
I was going to disclose this coming weekend's riveting endeavors but I then ran out of time due to piles of articles to sub, and so you will have to hang on a little longer.
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