Strangely, it's not the 5am starts that I (a night owl) find hard about yoga teacher-training.
It's the paperwork that really messes with my head. I will read, merrily, until the cows come home, but ask me to put pen to paper and actually submit an assignment,
and I get as silly as a bumful of smarties. Call it a hangover from My Rebellious Years.
Speaking of fools, the sale of hot cross buns, this many light years from Easter, must be some kind of record.
I bought six, immediately, without the slightest hesitation.
