Café

Last night at Pilates, the instructor seemed especially cruel, although I had a good laugh with some of the others in ‘the naughty row at the back’, as the instructor likes to call us.

Over the course of today, my muscles have become sorer and sorer. Post-Pilates DOMS normally waits till the end of the day to start thinking about it, but it let me know before I got out of bed that it was there.

We had Scotch pies with beans for lunch. Mr Pandammonium put his beans on top of the pie; I had them beside the pie. It was a nicer pie than I remember mutton-filled pies being.

I went to Prosper this afternoon to write and confirm our next two meeting dates; times might change.

I wrote a short story about Saturday that I might read at my writing group’s next meeting if I still like it by then. It might need another round of editing.

We continued watching Boat Story this evening.

The narrator still makes me laugh.

The rubbish play is an inventive way of relaying the main characters’ thoughts to the audience. It’s can be tricky to do that in screenplays compared to how easy it is in a book.