I am in the middle of writing a business plan and I need a break. It is unusually sunny outside for late October and I have an hour before picking up the kids, so I thought that I should get out and move around a bit. I’m off for a run in the park then. I’ve never been a very good runner and I don’t even particularly like running but after sitting in front of a computer all day, it is exactly what I need to do…move around, jump around, get some cardio exercise. EXCEPT… I forgot to put on a sports bra… Seriously?!?! How have I managed to FORGET to put on a sports bra?!? But I am now in Kensington Gardens, all stretched and ready so I’m going to go for a run. I am running. So far so good… but as I start jogging further along the path, I feel my bra strap dig into my right shoulder.
I move it over a bit but it keeps slipping and then I realize it is not the bra strap that is the problem but the bra cup and the bra cup is not holding me in. At all. Geesh.
We all know by now from A Fitting Place that 32 triple Ds should probably not even be setting off on a skip and a jump, let alone a jog in a public place without being strapped in and ready for take off. I am sort of relieved that I have an excuse not to run…but now I am determined to get some cardio. I am now walking briskly…but walking briskly around Hyde Park is going to take a lot longer than I wanted.
As I walk, I stumble upon a curious box on the path that I have never seen in the park before… but then again I have just come out for a run without a sports bra so who knows what other oddities are going on in this park today.
As much as it frustrates me (and my kids probably) that we don’t have a ‘backyard’ or any garden square to play around in, we do live near a glorious park. I’m not the only one that thinks so, because at 2pm on a Thursday, the park is packed. Oh…right… I just remembered, (not the sports bra) that it is half term for most London schools in this area, so that may have something to do with all the extra people around. THAT, of course, and the fact that the SUN is shining after 4 days of rain.
Half term for my kids is next week. Please refer back to Terminal Leave if you need a refresher on what all the terms are about, because I honestly don’t think I can remember enough today to explain it again. Remember I have just come out for a run without a sports bra so recollecting any previous explanations is not happening today now is it.
Anyway, I probably would have forgotten about the term holiday, except that is why I am frantically trying to finish my business plan. I would like to enjoy the days off with my kids. Never mind what I will do during all of these school holidays if I actually launch the business, but at the very least, THAT will certainly provide enough writing material. Perhaps I should omit that fact from my business plan.
We are around most of next week so I have scheduled a few random things for the kids. C2 recently asked to start playing the piano. Seriously. Asked. How on earth can any parent refuse THAT request?!? So we spent a few hours last weekend going to a piano shop up near Regents Park (another beautiful park but I wore a normal bra – full disclosure), and while CSr (Daaad) wanted to immediately buy a brand spanking new Yamaha, I somehow managed to convince him that C2 was better off (very sensibly) trying out a second hand piano to rent first. Yes RENT. For £40 a month.
I think that is an AMAZING deal myself and it may even inspire me to put some pocket money aside to have lessons as well.
I used to play the piano when I was younger but the piano teacher that came to our house, Mrs. W, used to just walk into the house, unannounced, without ringing the bell or knocking on the door. She was Polish and had come to America at the end of WW2, but I didn’t really care about any of this when I was 10 years old. (Sorry about that Mrs. W.) I just wanted to learn how to play Andy Gibb or Sean Cassidy pop tunes or possibly somewhat ambitiously, Nadia’s theme or at the very least, a Franki Valli song.
BUT, NO! I was taught, and had to practice, over and over, and over and over, Scarborough Fair every week…and as a result, I hate parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme.
Come to think of it, I should relearn that ballad. Who knew back then that I would be residing in London about to have my own kids start bashing on the ivory keys. I haven’t been to Scarborough or anywhere in Yorkshire for that matter, but perhaps next half term?
Anyway, C1 has now also shown interest in playing the piano but has requested music sheets for Macklemore’s ‘Pop some tags’. Really? Come on. I don’t even know if there is a piano played during that song as I’m too busy singing over the ‘this is F…ING awesome’…but I have to credit Dans Piano Tutorials for even suggesting how to play the song. I haven’t told C2 this yet as I’m sort of hoping for a Rachmaninoff’s piano concerto first. Too much? Yeah, probably.
I myself stopped taking piano lessons after a year of Mrs. W, and while I am grateful to my parents for instilling and fostering my musical appreciation, to this day I am not quite sure what happened to Mrs. W. Where is W?
While I think of it, it’s possible that Mrs. W. thought the man of the house (my father) had lost his mind, or perhaps she knew I was not the piano prodigy she was destined to teach. Maybe, just maybe it was a little bit of both. I do actually recall some of the details…probably because it was during an entire YEAR, and NOT some blasted half term.
Yes…I remember now…since my father worked nights during my Scarborough training, he was around in the afternoon and completely appalled that Mrs. W waltzed in without any notice. I sort of thought that she probably earned the right… surviving the war and all… to walk into any door she darn well pleased. BUT, it wasn’t really my house and I really didn’t want to play her tunes anyway, so am not sure I had enough conviction at the time to really take a view.
Anyway, I remember on one occasion, my father deliberately came out of the shower at around 3:50pm and proceeded to sort of stand around the front door foyer with his Fruit of the Loom tighty whities on for exactly 4pm. By no means was this a fashion statement as it was the late 1970s, but I am sure now that dad must have done this every Thursday come 4:00pm for quite some time. Weeks? Months maybe? I don’t know. Dad?
So, let’s hope C2’s teacher rings the bell when lessons begin next week. Then again, I may just walk around without my sports bra on if she doesn’t.
credit: Insogna Gallery
Drink while practicing the piano
Without a bra
Then pour yourself another shot
Repeat…again and again and again