Pulling myself together

My mood is much improved this week, thanks in no small part to some major-league pruning and tidying in the garden. Basically, we've been editing the long border that runs from the pond to the shed and it looks much better. There's nothing like a physical labour in the sun to raise the spirits.

Work is picking up, too. Today I've edited an article about Russian military aircraft, finished a piece on a tourist destination in Staffordshire, taught a yoga class and noticed that I get a mention in Writing Magazine as judge of the H E Bates short story competition. Have you started on your entry yet? You have until 3 December to get your entries in. I'm in the current issue of Spectrum, too (the magazine for members of the British Wheel of Yoga).

Elsewhere, nerves are building ahead of the charity concert on Saturday, raising money for Cransley Hospice and Headway East Northants. My nails are filed short, my ukulele is tuned and I'm ready to rock!

Facebook fury

OK, perhaps 'fury' is a bit strong, but I am a bit put out. You might have heard the discussion on the Today programme on Monday morning between Paul Fox, chair of the British Wheel of Yoga (of which I am a member) and Swami Ambikananda from the Traditional Yoga Association. The subject of the debate was the possible introduction of National Occupational Standards for yoga. This is not the place to go into the rights and wrongs of this; suffice to say it has been the hot topic in yoga forums in this country and beyond.

For many months now I have been in a closed group on Facebook just for  yoga teachers and with the aim of offering mentoring and support. It is supposed to be a nurturing, safe environment in which you can ask, for example, such and such happened in class and I didn't know what to do. Has anyone else experienced this? It is not supposed to be a general discussion forum, but understandably this BWY vs TYA topic has prompted a lot of interest. I put in my two-penn'orth, of course, but was responded to with such venom from some people that I have decided to leave the group completely. No great loss to them, but a huge relief to me.

The point of this story is that it made me realise how easy it would be to let this situation escalate into full-blown cyber-bullying. I'm sufficiently grown-up not to want to have the last word on this occasion, but I can quite see that once you start the ping-pong exchange of insults and abuse, matters could quickly get out of hand.

There is a saying oft quoted in yoga circles that we cannot control what other people do or say, we can only control our response to it. Good advice, no?

Three of the best: yoga, walking and soup

There is always the risk that turning a hobby into a job can take the joy out of it. I'm trying hard not to let this happen with my yoga, and with this in mind spent yesterday with a lovely group of people in Lincolnshire at a yoga event just for fun: no note-taking, no handouts to read, no pressure to take anything away and apply it in my own teaching, no being there just because I needed some CPD points: I went because I thought it sounded like a good day out - and I was right.

Castle Hill, Welbourn

The event was organised by the East Midlands Region of the British Wheel of Yoga as a 'Yoga & Walking Workshop'. First we had a lovely slow practice focusing on hips and legs. Then after a quick cuppa we strapped on our walking boots and headed off up a hill - yes, there are hills in Lincolnshire: who knew! - to put into practice our newfound connection with our feet (!). It was very muddy, but the sun was out and the sky was blue.

After slithering our way back to the village hall, we were treated to some delicious homemade soup, lemon drizzle cake and flapjack, which was just what was needed. The afternoon session saw us all blissed out with a lovely relaxation.

It was a fabulous day and really lifted my spirits after what had been a rather trying week. Huge thanks to organiser and soup-maker supreme Julie, and our excellent workshop leader Liz Underwood.

And relax.

World Book Night

So this is exciting: I've been chosen as a World Book Night Giver! I shall be distributing copies of Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier's haunting story about living in another woman's shadow. Proper Gothic stuff. But I've also had a rejection from People's Friend mag of a short story I sent in. I thought it was rather uplifting, but their letter says it's downbeat. Just goes to show how important it is to get outside opinions of stuff I've written. Swings and roundabouts.

'I see you, baby...'

Feeling rather dozy this morning as we had a lovely family meal out last night to celebrate First Born's 23rd birthday. So in a moment I'm going to pull on my boots and head up to the allotment to see how things are and to get my energy moving.

Then I'm going to a taster session at the gym of what is being touted as the successor to Zumba: it's called Booiaka, and from what I've seen on YouTube it looks extremely energetic. I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow.

Teaching a yoga class this evening, so I hope my muscles hold out!

Yoga is good for you!

Did you see The Sunday Times this weekend? In the 'Style' magazine there was a four-page feature flagged as: 'Is yoga doing you more harm than good?' Apparently William J Broad, the New York Times senior science writer, has a book coming out: The Science of Yoga: The Risks and the Rewards, which the ST claims 'has set the fitness community alight'. Really? Can't say I'd noticed.

My initial reaction was not very yogic. Oh no, I thought, not more sloppy, uniformed journalism. I was prepared to be infuriated - but actually it was a very rational article, the conclusion of which was that the harm only arises if:

1. you have a poorly qualified teacher, and
2. you don't listen to the instructions and, importantly, your body. 

Couldn't have put it better myself. As one who has done the British Wheel of Yoga 500-hour teaching diploma it rankles when I see adverts for courses that claim to turn people into a yoga teacher over a weekend. And yes, we teachers can preach precautions and prohibitions until we're blue in the face, but ultimately responsibility must lie with the students themselves.

This makes an interesting juxtaposition to the news that San Francisco airport has opened a yoga room for passengers to chill in while waiting for their flights: read the full story here. Speaking has someone who hates the whole dreary business of flying, I welcome this - not that I'm ever likely to fly to SFO to try it, of course!

And relax.

New Year's Resolution? Not likely!

This is the script of my broadcast on tonight's Paul Edwards Radio Show.

So here we are on the brink of another year. I have a good feeling about 2012: I like a year that is an even number, and a Leap Year is better still. Don’t know why. 

Of course, the papers today are full of tips on how we can achieve our New Year Resolutions. Boring! My resolution is not to make any resolutions. Instead, here is a list of things I'm not going to do this year.

Happiness is having warm toes!

• Take any notice of what's hot and what's not. Who cares what's trendy in the world of fashion? I have enough trouble finding something that fits – and, at this time of year I'm more concerned about keeping my feet from solidifying from cold than whether or not my boots are a la mode.
• Start a new fitness regime. Why put myself through it? I already do yoga every day, walk and cycle because I can't afford petrol, and have registered for the Sport Relief Mile. That should be sufficient incentive to keep moving.
• Count calories. Commonsense and a tight waistband tell me when I've had too much. My grandmother used to say that enough's as good as a feast, and I'm not going to worry about the energy stored in a garibaldi.
• Learn a new language. I think my schoolgirl French and random other foreign phrases will suffice. Besides, my passport has expired, so the chances of me needing to speak anything more exotic than English are pretty slim – unless we get invaded, of course.
• Grumble about the money being spent on the Olympics. It's happening, folks. Accept it and move on.
• Try something new. My life is already littered with stuff I have taken up with enthusiasm and then put down again. I should revisit these before attempting basket weaving or country dancing, or whatever.
• Kid myself that anti-ageing creams work. Wake up, sister: it's just marketing. And given that people with smooth, nipped and tucked faces that don't move are subject to more ridicule than those of us with our history writ large on our countenance, I'm settling for a few wrinkles.
• Read more. I don't have to try to do this: it'll just happen.
• Get stressed that my crockery doesn't match. There's food on the plates, isn't there?
• Worry about the end of the world. Isn't it possible that the last date on the Mayan calendar is 21st December 2012 simply because they got fed up of writing it? And if I'm wrong and they're right, there's nothing I can do about it.

Happy New Year, everyone.