A long day of driving through the western suburban wilderness in search of a factory. A factory that will produce clothes for the yoga studio. Clothes that don't show your cervix when you spread your legs and bend over, clothes that your boosies won't fall out of when you invert, if at all possible. Are such clothes attainable? Dear God, let it be so. I am SO TIRED of having to work with my ass to the wall because my tights are old and sheer and I can't find new ones. Tracky dacks are all very well for the casual Iyengar student, but teacher trainees are expected to provide visual access to as much of their bodies as possible and, like fully-qualified teachers who demonstrate poses all day long, must be above reproach on the Modesty Front. Easier said than done.
The factory was bloody hard to find, but when finally I did, after some amusing, mimed exchanges with roaming Vietnamese factory workers, walking through those doors was worth every hot, dusty, cyclone-fenced dead end I had hitherto encountered. Probably the most to-die-for manufacturing space I've ever seen. High, vaulted ceilings. Natural light as far as the eye can see (which was pretty far, under the circumstances), miles and miles of uncluttered cutting tables and every kind of sewing machine you could ever wish for. All of it so clean and neat it seemed to sparkle. I almost cried.
I expected nothing less because it's owned by my ex-landlady, who is as neat and clean as she is sweet, honest and kind. Best landlords I ever had and the only thing I regretted losing when I left the West. Well....that and the remote access garage - my car will never recover. Oh, and the karaoke nights; the landlords next door with their prodigious extended family, singing their hearts out to one long, interminable Vietnamese ballad - I never tired of it...but I digress. Anyway, I was greeted like the Prodigal Daughter, and it was all very emotional....
A BIG detour on the way home, via the Perfectly Enormous Bunnings in Sunshine (okay, that's 4 things I miss, but that's TOTALLY the last one), saw me stopping at my favourite Indian grocer for essential supplies (alright, alright, 5 things; nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition). Now, my Indian grocery supplies are no joke, it being pointless to cook lemon gnocchi without ghee (go figure, but it's true), I can now see out the global economic crisis without fear of running low on incense, and there is nothing like gulab jamon for the pre-menstrual palate. I also found a bottle of rose syrup, which I have BIG plans for, big plans....
But the best part of all was getting home, putting my feet up, and unwinding with these....
A packet of 50-50 tasty tasty biscuits. That's 50% tasty, and....um....the other 50% tasty also, baba...
and, my personal favourite, a nice cool glass of iced Apple Sidra.
And if you're wondering what Apple Sidra tastes like....well....
It tastes a real lot like apple cider,
only funnier.