On a quiet day recently, while the wind and snow blew outside, and while the bicycle stood idle waiting for a clear day, I came across a small chart in the corner. Yoga! It was full of yoga positions. Eager for some new forms of exercise, I peered more closely and decided that most of them are, a) seriously bad for you, and b) impossible. But I was intrigued. And so I began, grunting, puffing, cursing, laughing. Eventually I managed to get one or two of them:

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I have no idea what it’s called:

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And I certainly don’ t chant some weird stuff:

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But it’s actually quite enjoyable and gets most of the creaks and stiffness out of the system.

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Ah yes, it also great for the intestines, since yoga helps one fart wondrously.

(ht cp for the pics)

PS. Come to think of it, this may well be the latest in a series, of which earlier moments include the ‘pleasures of middle age‘ (my post varicose vein treatment stockings), and ‘how to be a tool‘ (my flotation suit collection).

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