It’s a dreich day, but dry and my washing is hanging like colourful flags waiting for a bit of wind…I fear it will end up draped over radiators but I will persist. I have memories of Tien Yen, in that cold damp house, with the temp not much above 3 C and my attempts at laundry hanging for days swathed over the line on my balcony.

Still spring is on its way, and the snowdrops are blooming and the early daffs are being sold in clumps in shops, no doubt direct from the Channel Islands…pretty.

I finally made it to the ballet! I went with a spring in my step, all set to bond with other like minded souls, as I did at Jinti’s Nia class…but NOT SO. Dance Base is the most fantastic establishment, quite new in the Grassmarket, and caters for all forms of dance…from belly to Scottish to jive and break and even…can you imagine… pole dancing!!! I was quite shocked in my Edinburgh way. Well I got into my lycra, and felt very vulnerable in my bare feet, (I was just a drop in member after all, only there to test the water, so to speak) and as we all gathered outside Studio 2, all the ladies were toeing the ground like restless racehorses, using the banisters as a barre to flex their toes and lift their knees at odd angles. Hmmmm. Not a place for social networking then.

I naturally gravitated to the back and clung on to the barre. The teacher was male, like a very strict Gok Wan, who made all the steps looks to beautiful, graceful and easy. I pointed, plied, and somehow remembered all the positions from my long ago lessons when I was about nine. The only thing is I am not very good at putting in the arms, and because I was so busy concentrating the maestro came and tried to release my arms from the crucifix position to a more gentle curve. (Bat wings were in evidence big time…the other ladies seemed very anorexic, and their spines were like sea shells going down their backs.) I was very nervous, and was horrified when he shouted ‘pirouette and turn!’ and I was left facing the back wall and everyone behind me had a full view of me and my legs doing all the wrong things…Oh God.

I persevered, stood tall and straight, tummy sucked in and felt good, then he made us leap across the floor in groups of 5, stepping and jette-ing with arms doing their own combinations of positions, that was when I lurked at the back, coming out in palpitations and then made for the door and ran! I dressed and escaped. No way was I going to do that in front of everyone…I would have looked like a praying mantis.

BUT…for the first time in my entire life…I have huge pains in my abdominal muscles…I didn’t even know I possessed them! Maybe I should go back next week. My Presbyterian upbringing is still fiercely embedded… ‘Persevere, Gael. You must not give up…finish what you start blah blah blah.

Yesterday John suggested a walk down by the Water of Leith. I had planned dressing up in my new skirt and boots, but changed my mind and wore my spotty wellies instead…then he suggested lunch in Stockbridge so as usual I was out dining looking as though I had just come in from the croft.

ART was the main theme of the walk, with Antony Gormley’s statue standing like a lost soul in the water, with all of the river’s debris collected around his legs. He is the sculptor who also did the Angel of the North.

Also, the enigmatic local artist who has been keeping all the walkers amused throughout the winter, has devised another concoction out of leaves…quite a cool guy.

Further along, coming close to Leith we found a fabulous haunting face painted on the underside of a bridge…not a Banksy but still quite arresting.

And then finally a poem, etched into the stones by the water. Each slab has some little ditty but this one caught my eye!

No other news…nothing definite on the job front for John. We got mildly excited about Bellarusse and Ukraine, but that didn’t appeal. There are other little threads in the wind. Who knows what the new week will bring.

In the meantime, we are off to climb Arthur’s Seat, but I shall just give you a quick warming glow with my new jumper. I think I look very good as a ‘woolly model’. I remember ages ago Paul Merton, on ‘Have I got News for You’ tried to emulate male models, who were advertising knitting patterns or underwear, all gazing far away off the top right hand of the page, as though trying to remove themselves from the embarrassment! HA HA.