I’m lying here on the hard parquet floor and wondering what to write tonight. The smell of polish mingles with the faint air of dancers’ glow. I’m a little nauseous. Or am I? The OH, who’s taken this week off, though in truth it’s not going to be a holiday as such, has persuaded me to come along to yoga with him.

He’s been coming every Monday for a couple of years and feels that it does him good. It’s supposed to be be stress-busting and mind-emptying. Supposed to be. I’m not good at emptying my mind. My mind quite often starts the day with a persistent earworm that reflects my subconscious and sets my mood for the rest of the day. The germs of ideas take root. Some of the more constructive ones can lead to blog posts or witty tweets or action-packed emails. Others are darker and ping around my brain multiplying, magnifying until they’re so heavy that they pull me down into gloom.

I’m not thinking deep thoughts tonight, though.  I’m lying here at the end of a session dead pleased that I managed, largely, to do the poses and keep up, that I didn’t make a total fool of myself. I’ve always thought that yoga was a great idea and, let’s face it, it is part of my culture, I suppose, so I’m surprised I don’t jump at the chance to come every week. But it’s yet another thing, isn’t it, when in truth all I’d like to do is curl up on the sofa with a book. Or Twitter.

All that running and rowing at the gym has obviously helped with my core strength and the way I’ve learnt to breathe in my singing lessons feeds into it all. I’m not sure I would have kept up with this class a few years ago before I tied the physical exercise in with the creativity of my soul and learnt the right technique to sing properly. It’s all working together at least then. Good.

I’m thinking about my dog training classes today. How everyone thinks Raffles is cute and pretty but how the people and humandogs in Oscar’s class are happy to have him there with him. He is such a fount of joy, injecting enthusiasm and desire for approval into everything he tries to do. What a pleasure it is to work with him. How soft are his ears; how warm his fur when I burrow down into it with my nose; how wet his ear-cleaning tongue.

I’ve been fasting today and I’m hungry. I’m thinking about that too. I can’t go home and have a cake or some ice cream. Not even a proper cup of tea because the lactose in the milk carries so many calories out of my 500 allocation for today.

I remember being in this hall before, when I was five years old and it looked vaster and my mum had made me a pretty dress of pink satin to come to the wedding of my cousins’ cousin. I wasn’t a bridesmaid, though. I’ve never been a bridesmaid. How I thought it was funny that we were having wedding breakfast in the afternoon and how I was sick on the front step of friends of my parents the following day. Too much rich food. Unlike today.

And now the lights have gone off and I’m lying here deep in relaxation after a long day and downstairs I can hear the thuds and cries of the karate class floating up through the floorboards. The teacher has switched off the lights and we are all lying here, loads of women and two men, in a secure cocoon of darkness yet downstairs some very wound-up people are screaming and hacking at each other with their bare hands. It’s not conducive.

And tomorrow is another meeting of tradespeople. And I’ll go to the gym and come back home and make muffins. And I should have got in touch with my friends over the weekend. And I haven’t done my singing practice today and I’ve no idea what I’m going to blog about tonight.

Oh yes. Yoga’s great for clearing the mind.