IMG_7126Well now, shall we have un petit (apologies, have just read a text from my Dad that was written in worryingly accurate french…) catch-up? A catch-up accompanied by a garden shot or two, naturally. Said garden shots taken when pigs flew and the sun shone during a weekend. A Bank Holiday weekend. In Blighty. Shocker.

New Job continues as does a whole host of other stuff, namely the adding of a wee string to my qualifications bow; Fully Qualified Exercise to Music teacher.

Yeah baby!

After a challenging few years and a subsequent eating of too many cakes, I hit the gym in late February last year. And it’s wouldn’t be all that wrong to say I’ve barely left since. (“What, back again?”, question the long-suffering reception staff.)

Fast forward to March this year; the daily grind of 3.5 hours commuting to London for 8 hours of bum-on-chair action is sending me steadily loopy and various chats with a lovely ex-colleague have- somehow- led me to google opportunities within the fitness industry. All ready to dismiss the results returned- such an idea is laughable, surely? And besides, I’m not nearly fit enough- an oh so inspiring current teacher of mine offers some truly wise words. Words which, for once, I actually listen to.


Days later it’s Monday, it’s 6am and I’m London-bound. Except this time I’m decked out in lycra; attire usually exclusive to play and not work.

I spend the next three weeks with my head in an anatomy textbook, feet periodically bursting into a grapevining-boxstepping-hamstring-curling frenzy. I learn 32 count choreography, become a fountain of skeletal knowledge and have a number of wobbles- most questioning what the actual heck I am doing with my life.

With the bombardment of practical and anatomical theory and assessments over and a returning to of normal life- in my case a new job entirely unrelated to the fitness industry (oh life, you rollercoaster, you!)- I choreograph various routines, shout along to music in the car and bark teaching points at peers with whom I would usually participate.

Sporty little socks well and truly practised off, I hoof back up to London and return a fully qualified lady!


So yes, that’s my slight wild card of an update.

Anyone for a lunge?



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