I spent the weekend in London catching up with various friends, and whilst I had a great time, my skin did not. It is clearly rebelling against the excessive amounts of smog and traffic fumes it was forced to come into contact with, and is letting me know by breaking out into spots. I had hoped that judicious applications of toothpaste would bring it under control (my friend suggested this; I’ve never tried it before but am willing to give anything a go once*), but it’s still not happy. London is such a great place though, pissed-off skin or not; I really wish I could live there for a time, but with a boyfriend who has a pathological hatred of the place, I don’t think it’s going to happen any time soon.
I’ve decided that I’m tired of chickening out in trapeze, and am making a concerted effort in class to master moves that are eluding me, and trying new ones even if they do scare the beejesus out of me. So with this new philosophy in mind, last week I tried out a moon (sounds vaguely obscene, doesn’t it?). Whilst I managed to get into the position I was meant to be in, I then promptly got stuck and couldn’t get out. My foot was twisted between two ropes and every second up there was causing extreme pain, but I also couldn’t seem to try and untangle myself, as even though it would have eased it, my brain seemed to think that staying put was the best option. Eventually, after my teacher shouted some encouraging words from the ground, I managed to unhook myself in an ungainly fashion and slither to the bar. Nice.
Despite the pain and the clumsiness, the move is really pretty and I’m sure once my skin hardens up it’ll be fine. It may even make it into the routine we’ve all got to start planning for. First, though, I need a song to kick start the process – any suggestions gratefully received…
In dance, it’s also that time of year again: preparations for the annual show have begun. We’re doing a piece to All That Jazz from Chicago, which I really, really hope includes some jazz hands. This is my third time doing the show and not once have I got to do jazz hands, so I’m hoping 2009 is The Year. It’s also going to be The Year of the Fishnets, which I’m more excited about than I really should be. I don’t know why, but ever since I wore fishnets for my New Year’s appearance as Cher, I’ve wanted another chance to don them. And these are not your average, £2-a-pair-from-Primark fishnets, oh no! These are proper dance ones that suck you in and squeeze your thighs into submission and generally make your legs look lean and toned and, you know, dancer-y. My legs have never looked like this, so you can understand why I’m excited.
* Except incest and morris dancing**
**Yes, I have stolen this from Thomas Beecham.