Happy New Year 2013

Here's wishing all those straying onto this blog site in the search of pictures of Deauxma being taken from behind a very happy and prosperous New Year. Hope your Christmas was fun, too, and that you all went easy on the moderation.

Greece my palm. It's the only way.

This afternoon, we finished piano rehearsals for a diabolical production of La Belle Hélène, Offenbach's witty operetta about Helen of Troy, Menelaus, Agamemnon and the rest which, like any decent work of its genre, should be sprinkled with current events-related jokes. This particular production is notable for possessing none of the following: charm, wit, humour, style, relevance and sparkle. How we manage to spend three hours in Greece without one single mention of the Euro is beyond me, but there you go. In fact, it's probably the worst production I've ever seen, let alone been involved with. Hell, it's not even sexy (and a good operetta should be)…Quite how it's managed over the years to find seven buyers in France is beyond me. Must be incredibly cheap. In any case, it has no business being in our theatre. What's more, there were four weeks of piano rehearsals, a quota you only normally get for a complicated premiere, not a tacky provincial reprise. To say it was like pulling teeth is an understatement. I don't know how the audience, used to high quality Christmas fare, is going to react to something this shabby, but we'll see. OK, I've said enough.

Don't come and see it. Vote with your feet. And look at this picture, instead:

We object to…EVERYTHING!!!

An important part of living in France is realising that people in this still rather desirable patch of earth are never happy. Cycling to and from work today, I slalomed round a number of vociferous gatherings but couldn't work out whether or not they were connected. Back at Château Fingers I typed Manifestations Toulouse 17 novembre into a search engine and waited for enlightenment. Ready? Here goes:

1) Allées Jean Jaurès: Demonstration in support of Palestine. For a change.
2) Place Esquirol: Demonstration against gay marriage and adoption.
3) Saint-Cyprien: Demonstration against the expulsion of squatters and repatriation of Roms. By the Etat bourgeois, of course. It's there in black and white; you couldn't make it up.

Have a look. They're all cheesed off.

Some thoughts on yoga.

I started going to yoga classes shortly after stopping smoking, back in March, 2011. If you've never tried yoga, it's wonderful. Our centre isn't a bunch of hippy, peace 'n' love prozac addicts, it's just a collection of normal people who enjoy doing yoga.

Once you settle down on either your haunches or a funny little stool prior to the class kicking off, you're enveloped by a sense of calm and well-being. Not even street noises seem to bother you any more. When the class starts, however, you realise you're part of something much bigger: you are a central component of a highly centred and concentrated group of stretching and contorting adults who are, for a full hour, simultaneously trying not to break wind.