So, I've discovered that taking two months off from dancing is good for what ails you, but rather dreadful for the self-esteem. It's like having two bodies: the one that remembers how everything should feel, and the one that acts like a really ignorant lump.
Alex used techno music in rehearsal today. I think my head is still going, boomf boomf boomf boomf.
It was a nice change to think really hard about stuff like muscles and standing up properly. The nice thing about dancing is that, even when it's not working, at least you can keep doing something. I keep moving around, maybe look like a fool and an idiot, but at least I can keep on until I tire myself out. With writing, when it's not working, I seem to spend a great deal of time staring at a wall. And then looking at the paper. And then staring at the wall. So, it felt good to move, even if I'm going to be horribly, dreadfully, stuck-in-a-block-of-concrete sore tomorrow.
Am now going to watch MASH and have a cup of tea.