Breathing Purposefully.

There’s a lady in the village who flies to Dublin once a month because she is studying to be a yoga teacher and in-between times she runs an evening of yoga and meditation in the local primary school’s canteen every, except one in four, Tuesday night.

I went.

We stretched, we flexed and we breathed purposefullly.

I attempted something that involved bending my right leg somewhere it had never been before - so in fact it became my left leg – my arms were inside out and my head appeared underneath my bum.

It took three people and the teacher to unwrap me.

We relaxed, we breathed more purposefullly and we meditated in Indian.

When I woke up everyone had gone, the lights were turned off and the door was locked.

They had left me alone on my yoga mat, a handwritten note at my side – “you were snoring!.”

I had to crawl through the toilet ventilation window to get out.

The position, which I believe the teacher had named the cobra and which we had attempted earlier, greatly aided me in this manoeuvre.

I succeeded.

And had to walk home through the forest.