Velevet Magazine Column

Feathers on a Lake                                    

Began yoga classes with friends Pat and Deirdre. Pat said that in her youth she’d been quite adept, Deirdre enigmatically admits to having ‘dabbled in it’ in the past as if she’s talking about Class A drugs.  I’ve never done it before  but feel I’d rather suit sitting in the Lotus position and emanating spiritual…. emanations. The classes are held in an old house at the bottom of a dirt track. On route we meet a large sheep, a Dalmatian dog and several cats - one, three legged. Pat says these are positive signs, ‘Very Islington’. I murmur that during the twenty years we all lived on Islington’s borders we never once bumped into a sheep but I’m ignored.
            The tutor, a petite woman, wears a pale pink velour track suit which is not a fashion item any one of us could carry off successfully. She has long white blonde hair worn in two pigtails – we couldn’t carry pigtails off successfully either. Also a pink and white scrubbed complexion.
            “Isn’t she marvellous?” Deirdre whispers. Deirdre knows the tutor via a local ‘complementary medicine’ group. I agree that she does look marvellous especially next to the three of us who I feel look jaded and faded. However neither Deirdre nor Pat are thinking ‘jaded and faded’, Deirdre’s getting bossy about needing a prime position by the calor gas heater for her exercise mat and Pat’s adopting one of her vacuous, “my what a pretty lady”, facial expressions.
            There are six others in the room, five women and a bearded man who is most apologetic about being a man. Deirdre throws him her ‘Don’t try any funny stuff with me dude’, look and he cramps himself and his mat into a tiny recess, directly in the draft from the front door
            I begin well. I’m successful at lying on my mat with my knees hugged against my chest and I’m pretty good at moving my head from side to side. I come unstuck when we all have to adopt kneeling positions. Impossible for me to sit on my feet, they refuse to flatten out, they are too used to being at right angles to my ankles. Hope no one notices my failure.
            More success. I am excellent at clenching and unclenching buttocks, shoulder blades and face. I try the Cobra – drop down onto your front, flatten your body onto your mats then raise yourself using your arms – all I can raise is my chin. Next to me Deirdre is up on her feet and trying to clutch her left ankle with both hands while lifting her right leg. Deirdre’s a big girl and as I stare up at her black lycra’d buttocks I have a vision of her crashing backwards on top of me. Find I’m giggling. Look across to Pat, she’s on her stomach holding her ankles behind her head in a bow position while rocking back and forth much to the admiration of the tutor.
            “You’ve done this before”, the tutor enthuses.
            “No, never”, gasps Pat.
            “You’re very supple.”
            Pat smirks horribly – I can’t bear to look. Look at man in recess. He’s taken his socks off. He has hairy toes.- I can’t bear to look. I get up and start on the Warrior position; legs apart, arms up and stare fiercely into the middle distance while imagining a source of great power is building up in my stomach area. Tutor comes over. She taps my thighs, “These need to be much further apart.”
            “I’ll fall over.”
            “Trust me.”
            I fall over.
            “That shouldn’t happen”, she says, “Your friend’s doing very well.”
Deirdre, who’s rolling on her back with one leg stretched upwards, beams before realizing the tutor’s gaze is fixed on Pat.
            “Remember to breathe”, tutor says - a loud puffing sound sweeps the room as people breathe out, we’ve  all held our breath for at least ten minutes,
“Now we’ll try a head-stand –“
The class is almost over. We lie on our mats and close our eyes. The tutor lights scented tea lights and switches on a tape of someone moaning.
            “Imagine you’re a feather floating on a lake”, she instructs, “There’s a warm sun and birds singing in the trees overhead.”
            Don’t feel much like a feather. Sneak peak at Deirdre– she doesn’t in any way resemble a feather either.  All is quiet. I almost nod off then become aware that the tutor’s talking in a low voice, “Of course since my relationship broke up, life’s been one hard slog.”
            “You’ve been very brave.”
            Now who said that? Voice familiar. Open my eyes. Sure enough, eight of us are lying with our eyes closed, Pat is sitting in a perfect Lotus position chatting. Later Pat helps the tutor to roll up all the mats.
            “Can you manage the walk up to the main road?” she asks solicitously.
            “I’ve got my car”, says the tutor, “I can give you like a lift?” This to Pat not us. Pat smiles ingratiatingly and says, “Thank you, but not tonight. Perhaps next week.”
            Together Pat, Deirdre and I walk up the track. There is no sign of any livestock. The tutor passes us in a powder blue mini, tooting merrily. Deirdre and I raise our hands, Pat shouts something inappropriate like Bon Voyage.
            Deirdre says, “You are such a little creep, why is that?”
            Pat is unbothered, in fact remarkably cheerful, “I like the ladies”, she says.
            “We’re ladies”, Deirdre says.
            “No, you’re my mates. Big difference.”
            We’re overtaken by the bearded man. He asks, “Would you like the use of my torch?”
            “What’s that supposed to mean?” Deirdre counters aggressively.
            “Just would you like the use of my torch. It’s very dark and the path’s uneven.”
            I intervene, “That’s very kind of you but actually we’re pretty sure footed”, and down I go.

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