The Eternal Skipper

Bonjour, Della Nation!

You may be wondering why I'm Suddenly Speaking French. Or, as I prefer to call it, Franglais.

Of course its because I've been sitting here, laptop on my knee, huddled next to a v. humble two bar radiator watching a v. slobbering interview with the actor Charlotte Rampling in Paris.

I've always held a Distant Admiration for Charlotte. But the truth is, she's never warmed the Cockles of my Heart. She looked too much like a Well-Bred Racehorse for my liking, although I am exceedingly fond of horses & aspire to one day own my own Miniature Companion Horse.

Charlotte is sitting in some Paris Park, maybe The Tuileries, although what the hell would I know, I haven't been to Paris since 1974.

For the first few minutes of the interview I sat there wondering if Charlotte had had any work done, a topic never far from my mind these days. But then she said something that caught my attention .

She said that she had never really gone after things in life. Things had just gone after her.

Well, isn't she the Lucky One, I sneerily thought.

Things might have gone after me too if I looked more like a Racehorse.

But then she said ,'I always considered that there was a state of being - a freedom of spirit within yourself....and I felt if I could cultivate that, & not impose things on anybody & not demand things ...& if I could learn to be in that state of being, that things would happen. And they did.'

I love it when people talk about Inner States of Being & Freedom & Getting Everything You Secretly Want By Not Acting Needy.

And aren't you marvelling at how I managed to type what she said verbatim?

Anyway, I'd like to go to Paris.

That's why I'm collecting miniature Eiffel Towers & wearing an Eiffel Tower ring & an Eiffel Tower badge. It's in the hope that My Energy will finally connect with the Energy of Paris & I'll magically find myself there v. soon, perhaps after I visit an Ashram in India, which is where I now sound like I'm coming from.

Today I was being a Badbag & an Eternal Skipper at Boot Camp instead of being in Paris. Can you tell that I am skipping in the first photo? I must have been turning the rope at an enormous speed because you can't see it.

I am a dreadful skipper. I was tooo frightened to jump. I was lamely hopping instead. My feet kept on being caught. I had no traction. Or whatever you would say in Skipping Parlance.

Finally, I overcame my fear of jumping & jumped. You'd think I was about to jump off a cliff. What an amazing sense of achievement when I successfully skipped fifteen times.

Cascading Teardrops.

Here's me yesterday, again Not in Paris, but in the Staffroom. I wonder what Parisian Staffrooms in high schools are like? Would they all be endlessly chain smoking, I wonder? Or is that another Sad Example of my Cultural Stereotyping?

Please note my two necklaces that I bought for five bucks each earlier this year at the 'Diva' sale. I like to think of them as Cascading Teardrops.

Ooo, I've just thought of that wonderful Victim Song, 'The Tracks of My Tears'. Sooo apt. So me.

My Little Bit for Brown.

I've said it before & I'll say it again, Brown is the Poor Relation of the Colour Spectrum, although I don't think it features in Rainbows. Brown has never recovered from the Seventies when it was the Colour de Jour in people's houses.

Anyway, here I am in Top to Toe Brown & loving it. I'm wearing one of my newly made necklaces which I've aptly named 'The Tool Box' for reasons that are obvious.

I am now in v. grave danger of violating my Official Bedtime.

So its off to bed. You may be relieved to know that I don't wear sockettes to Bed. I wear Bedsocks. Soo toasty.

Flapping My Bingo Wings

Hello & Welcome , Internetlings!

Behold me at last week's Boot Camp Extravaganza.

I am Mounting an Upsidedown Pod. You can't imagine how tricky it was.

Miss Jay, the Games Mistress had to hold on to me for quite some time until I got whatever Bearings I Still Have. Apparently, the older you get, the more balance you lose. That's why old people take little mincing steps instead of Big Strides when they run. Or perhaps Trot.

You may have noted that I'm wearing a Pedometer. It told me that I took over 14,000 steps that day.

So many steps......So much effort.

What on earth was I doing all day, I wondered? Certainly Not participating in the New York Marathon, which is what Miss Jay will be doing in November.

I seem to remember that I spent quite some time at the Whiteboard.

And then of course I had to trot up to 'Zinc' to get my Second Latte. A couple of short trips to the bathroom. And down a few flights of stairs to The School Canteen where I ordered a chicken roll with Aoli & semi-sundried tomatoes.

Perhaps the Pedometer was faulty.

Finally Miss Jay was able to let go. I use my hands to Create the Illusion of Balance.

It worked.

Lastly, here I am flapping my Bingo Wings, dreaming of at last riding a surfboard.

Just like Gidget, the Heroine of my Pubescent Years.

A Lousy Skipper Always Blames Her Rope

Welcome Interneters!

Its monday nite & I've spent far far too much time this evening watching TV.

I've just sat for a good ten minutes marvelling at the Deep Timbre of Tim Gunn's voice, the host of 'Project Runway'. I'm sure if I continued to focus for long enough, I would have become An Enlightened Being.

Now its teetering dangerously close to Destination Bedtime, so I must speedily type in Stream of Consciousness. Or perhaps in Dot Points. Or Both.

Just imagine Virginia Woolf's, 'Mrs Dalloway' written in dot points.

Would it make it a more Satisfying Reading Experience, I wonder?

As I'm fond of saying In Real Life, Cut To the Chase, Middleagedteacher.

Behold me as a Failed Skipper at last week's Boot Camp Experience.

I absolutely couldn't skip.

I blamed the rope. It just didn't have any spring in it.

But then a Lousy Skipper always Blames Her Rope.

I wonder if Mrs Dalloway skipped?

Perhaps Virginia herself should have skipped which may have stopped her from filling her deep coat pockets with the stones.

And then she may not have drowned.

I know that I could skip to some extent at perhaps ten, maybe even older.

At school, we used to have these Enormously Nerve-Wracking Skipping Extravaganzas at lunchtime where two Failed Skippers turned a vast rope & everyone in the entire class lined up to skip into it, if that's the correct Skipping Terminology.

Honestly, when it was my turn, I felt like I was about to face a Firing Squad.

Its good to look back & reflect & know that you've always had everything in perspective, isn't it?

Here's two Fellow Boot Campers - Madge & Nads. They are much taller than me. And years younger. I run around behind them panting & grunting like a Little Elderly Knome. I use Foul Language when I box. They don't mind. I'm grateful.

I'd love a Reality Series to be made about us - 'The Real Boot Campers of Boot Camp' perhaps.

Lastly, this is a v. flattering pose. I do recommend it.

But after four weeks of Boot Camp I do think that my Front Area has improved.

Lastly lastly, I did really appreciate the comments/suggestions from Readers about my blog name. Thank you. I think I'll keep Della Street going for a while longer.