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:
I have no idea what it’s called:
And I certainly don’ t chant some weird stuff:
But it’s actually quite enjoyable and gets most of the creaks and stiffness out of the system.
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).