Something happened today that wound up being a bit of a poke in the eye about the fact I’ve been a total Slack Alice on ye olde blogging front of late. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to – au contraire, there are a good dozen or so unfinished posts IN MY HEAD (useless, I concur) – more that my default setting of pathologically lazy has kicked in and… yeah. You see how it is. This wasn’t my planned comeback post but it feels right that it should be. I could’ve blogged about any of a number of things over the last month or so – I’ve seen scores of awesome ballets (and even got over my Don Quixote hatred courtesy of Natalia Osipova, Ivan Vasilev and the Mikhailovsky), I’ve had a few adventures in yarn (and my hands) dyeing, I went to Hogwarts with the Bestest and (ironically given that as I finish it,spring finally arrives on this fair Isle) been knitting a blanket like a loon for (nominally) my Vati. But anyway, back to what happened today…
Mid afternoon I was at my desk (briefly, I’ve been up and down like the proverbial jack-in-a-box all day) doing three things at once and wondering which I could cock up first to put another nail in the coffin of what has been a, frankly, bog awful week. It’s been the kind of bog awful that’s rubbed off on ballet class as well and I’ve been on the down side of the middle of my game (boo that). Anyway, mid afternoon I notice my phone flashing which normally instills one of two feelings in me: 1. FEAR or 2. general blase-ness that it’s just another spam e-mail. It’s neither of those things. It is, in fact, the lovely Cassa Pancho, head honcho of Ballet Black, asking if I’ve seen the May issue of Dance Europe yet (specifically page 11). Curiosity instantly piqued I ask if this is a subliminal message that I need to swing by the Opera House en route from work to class to acquire a copy. Yes, is the answer. I am then, naturally, super intrigued and spend the last couple of hours at my desk wondering when it’s acceptable to leave without incurring too much judgement.
Work over I flee to the Opera House, crash into the shop, dodging around a surprisingly large number of browsers and make a long arm for Dance Europe between the people milling around the magazine stand. There, on page 11, is an interview with Cassa in which she casually mentions that this blog is one of her favourites.
OH, Y’KNOW, NO BIG DEAL.
I am, simultaneously, a mass of emotion and my ovaries are getting a bit squiggly. I am honoured, touched and more than a little humbled that someone I think is super awesome with everything they’re trying to do in the ballet world and whatnot is name checking ME in Dance Europe. Then I find myself grinning like a complete loon and probably marginally unnerving the shop staff as I go to pay for my copy (incidentally, it’s much cheaper than I remember from last time I bought it). For reference, the whole interview with Cassa is pretty neat, but it’s my ego we’re stoking here and… yeah. I’m surprised my head could fit through the door to leave the building.
So, being name checked has given me a bit of a kick up the bottom to get back into the blogging swing… once I work out where to begin.
Incidentally, class was awesome tonight and I did not totally suck – largely I suspect because I was not completement morte aux pieds and sneaking a spot of shut eye in between exercises.
Oh, and in case you feared for getting my ego through doors, I got a reality check in the back of Dance Europe. It’s Alina Cojocaru’s birthday in May. It is my birthday in May. Alina and I are the same age. She is Alina Cojocaru, I am very much not.