My physio said this to me in my last appointment whilst he was trying to free up some movement in my impinged ankle. I have to admit, it made me feel a bit weird.
I mentioned it a couple of days later to one of my teachers, who looked at me like I’d gone mad and said “but you *are* a ballet dancer”.
I protested on both occasions. Because I’m not. Or am I?
Instinctively I define myself by my day job, the thing I do between 9 and 5 that pays the bills and ballet lessons and pointe shoes and dancewear…
Ballet is my hobby. It’s something I do in my free time. It’s something I fell in love with. It’s something I can’t not do.
But I’m not a ballet dancer. I’m a [my day job] who happens to also take ballet lessons. And I just happen to have an injury that is typical to ballet dancers.
Essentially I don’t know how I feel about being defined as a dancer by somebody else.
But I wonder, at what point do you become a dancer?
So far 2015 has mostly involved me not knowing entirely if I’m coming or going…
We moved office at work, total relocation to a different part of the Metrop. Largely from my perspective, leaving our old building involved me trying out the various packing crates for size, climbing into the empty stationery shelves to prove I fitted and sneaking up on to the roof to admire the view… The new office is working out pretty cool: I have a new commute (on the DLR, I can pretend to drive it!) and we have an on site canteen (second breakfasts FTW!) and, when the weather’s nice, we get so much light because of all the windows.
Along with moving offices, I moved house… After several years, My Beloved Housemate decided it was time to move on so I am now flying solo in my attic flat. It’s been a couple of weeks since I got the keys and it feels completely like mine now. I need to buy another bookcase at some immediate point in the future because there is no such thing as too many books… I keep remembering about things I don’t own (like a corkscrew!) mind you…
Ballet wise I made a move to the dark side for pointe shoes. After six months of various pairs of Freeds (which I loved but never lasted, yes the pair of Studio Operas that died in one class, I’m looking at you), and prior to that Blochs and Grishkos, I made the leap to Gaynors. I think I might be in love…
And finally, I got over the entrelac fear in knitting. I’ve attempted it several times over the years but never quite got my head around it. Now I have and I feel like I’ve crossed the final frontier of knitting!
This is a photo I took on my walk to the tube from the new office, cityscape featuring the Tower of London, the Shard and some trafficlights:
ETA and the title? I may be marathon watching Friends…
A couple of years ago I massively freaked out with the realisation that I would never manage to read ALL OF THE BOOKS. So I stopped revisiting old favourites and concentrated on reading new (to me, as opposed to newly published) things. Except now I’m moving house in a couple of weeks so I’ve been on a Book Diet and I’ve bought no new books since before Christmas.
Frankly this self imposed ban is killing me, doubly so as I’m about to start the last book on the to read pile (it’s The Human Factor by Grahame Greene which I anticipate being a bit of a dull slog) and I’ve still got about another month before I can legitimately lift the ban. Argh!
So I’ve decided, a little like Operation Cook All The Things, I’m going to reread all of my books. I’ll still be allowed to buy new ones under some kind of ratio system, the specifics of which I have yet to work out…
I confidently predict that Operation Read All The Things is a longer term plan than cooking all of the things but I’m looking forward to spending some time with some old friends, and probably charity shopping anything I can’t understand why I’ve kept in slightly ruthless fashion… Or just to make spare for more new books.
Long and short: books are ace. All the books. Photograph below is just a tiny sample of my collection, which in no way is a habit or a problem:
Christmas has been thoroughly decadently lazy. And awesome. I even got snow! Albeit the snow came on Boxing Day, but nothing can beat feeling like you’ve woken up in Narnia. Luckily my gorgeous village put on a stunning show of scenery for me to go out and explore…
That said, after ten days of doing very little beyond eating, drinking and trying to find something to watch on the telly box, I’m quite looking forward to getting back to my work-ballet-sleep routine. Well, less so the work part…
I hope you all had glorious festive seasons!
In the whole, July went a lot better than it looked to be gearing up to at one point which is a complete plus, to be honest. Luckily at the point I hit full slump, I was picked up by the right person dispensing the right level of sympathy after which I started to pick myself up and then shuffled off to Rural Derbyshire a few days later and it all got better from there on in. Hurrah.
July also saw the End of an Affair with ‘the pointe shoes that got away’ and the Bloch Sonatas were consigned to the bottom shelf of dead shoes. Despite their promise, they never quite lived up to it which made me a bit sad but I have no regrets. Well except maybe the epically bruised toe nail that they caused… I’ve gone back to Freeds, although my previous flirtation with their Studios II was mildly disastrous, they had plenty to recommend the brand and I’ve now fallen head over heels in love with my Classics. Hurrah.
But back to July, here’s how it shaped up numerically:
Books read 24 (vg)
Ballet classes 20 (vg)
Knitting projects completed 2 (a tank top for The Very Bestest’s eldest and a pair of bootees for a colleague’s Impending Arrival)
Ballets seen: 9
Ballet companies seen: 2 (NEBT and ENB) plus one school performance (LRBS)
Times left London: 2 (a long weekend in Rural Derbyshire and a long weekend in the Don with The Bestest)
Loom band crazes bought into: 1
Trips to the pound shop undertaken to satisfy the above: 2
Occasions I say on my good chum K’s balcony and threw strawberry stalks at other good chums as they arrived: 1
Quite a good months all things considered… And, here, have a photo of the contents of the dead pointe shoe shelf out on the landing this afternoon where I’d lobbed then whilst cleaning my room:
There are reasons that my bestest is, well, my bestest.
Take one recurrence of persistent tendonitis, one pair of über boring beige wrist splints, TWO trips to the pound shop and, one glittery eyebrow later, I am feeling less woeful and sorry for myself about the flare up.
Also in no way whatsoever do I have a new addiction in the form of looooooooom banding but when the following utterance spilt forth from my lips “I was going to pick up my knitting but…” I think we had to reevaluate the situation.
So judge me… 🙂
I got my ballet bag back! Chums, I can’t even begin to tell you how completely and utterly downright awesome this is. Despite all my moaning that it was lit forever to my train company and it had vanished into their black hole of lost property!
On Tuesday I was sprawled on our staff room sofa reading David Starkey’s book about Henry VIII’s early days when my phone rang. It was the lost property office informing me they thought they’d got my bag. Not wishing to count my chickens and all that, I was tentatively excited then slipped away from work a bit early to collect my bag en route to class.
It was mine as I was gleefully reunited with my accumulated dance crap and so very, very happy/relieved as a result. See (please appreciate my beautifully bouffant immediately post bun hair):