Unbalanced ...

A day of new beginnings, as people returned to work and even for those like me who don't have to get up if we don't want to there is the lure of Pilates class and the promise of less sedentary times ... 

And Pilates class has a new venue. I've been going for the last two and a half years to a church hall (really its last incarnation was as an alternative church, but that seems to have folded) in a wooden structure quite close to home, with a scarred wooden floor and random chairs stacked around sofas and a drum kit and sound system. Remember that floor; it's relevant. For some reason the Council decided that our trainer's lease would now end and the building would ... whatever. At the moment it looks very dead. 

And so it was this morning that instead of walking along the road to the hall I had to get in the car and drive out of Dunoon, on the high road, past the cemetery, and into the industrial estate where you might go to hire ...machine tools, stuff like that. Tucked away at the far end of the road is a studio purpose made for things like Pilates, and it's the interior of that in the blip. I took the photo as we left; I had been doing my thing just in front of that pile of pink mats.

And how difficult it felt! The worst bit was when we got on to the balance exercises - standing on one foot while waving the other leg about, basically. I was quite good at that only a fortnight ago; this morning I was wobbling all over the place. I was overjoyed to realise we were all much the same - but why? And we reached the conclusion that we were all unsettled by the change of space. For me, it was the absence of a specific floorboard or knot in the wood on which to focus - I told you the wooden floor was important - for the grey lino was completely featureless. Who would have thought it could make such a difference? 

The other horror, not shown here, is a full-length mirror wall facing the windows. I couldn't see myself today, but if I have to look that way I'll be doomed. And one last quirk: as we lay on our backs relaxing after an hour of hard work, I realised why the ceiling felt so familiar. I could have been lying in my now-demolished classroom in Dunoon Grammar School. 

But I wasn't ...