As well as attending a Barre class, I also signed up to do yoga. Although I am in very unbendy condition, this was less of a challenge for me – I might have let myself go, but I have done enough yoga over the years that I can keep up with the basics. Nevertheless, I was drawn to Happy Yoga because their website promised they were good with unbendy people, and it seemed laid back and friendly. My first impressions were reinforced when I had to cancel my first, prepaid class due to the Metro being off (I’m not quite ready to negotiate the buses yet!) and they agreed to transfer my credit to another class.
Foolishly, I booked a class the same day as my Barre class (what was I thinking?) The temptation to cancel was therefore strong – only embarrassment at doing it twice, and knowing that if I didn’t go I would just be sitting alone in my hotel room made me drag my arse along.
The class and teacher were pleasingly chilled, and I felt better for going, but the walk itself threw up some memories. Happy Yoga is (currently – it’s moving in September) in a building off Carliol Square – next to the fabulously named Flat Caps Coffee, which I have earmarked for a return visit.
To walk to it from town, you have to pass Worsick Street. “Where you used to get the buses”, a friend told me, when I asked directions, and while I nodded, faithfully, I only had the haziest of recollections. Had I even ever got the bus? Didn’t I used to just get the Metro?
Until I got there. It’s deserted now: all the old stalls, such as they were, ripped out, the whole place gutted, home to pigeons and rubbish and questionably parked cars. But oh, now, I remember it. Felling Metro is at the bottom of a very steep hill at which I lived at the top – the bus was often an easier (and, at night, safer) option. How many nights did I wait in that queue? Usually alone – most of my friends lived in different parts of town – buzzing with the excitement of a film, a date, or just being young and alive.*
I expect next time I am there it’ll be luxury flats.
*this is obviously sheer romanticism. I was as grumpy as a teen as I am now – even more so, as a mis-prescribed Pill gave me long-term mood swings and issues with depression. (Thanks, doc!) But let me dream, won’t you?