I think I may finally have figured out why I never meet the same people at any of my yoga sessions. At first I thought that it was me, that perhaps after seeing me narrowly avoid serious bodily harm people decided not to come back. However, it turns out that my only blame was in taking almost 4 months to realise that I have been going to the bloody taster session every week! Still, it’s too late to do anything about it now, best just to continue as is, attempt to save what remains of my metaphorical face, and hope that I don’t exceed some kind of limit on introductory lessons.
This evening Ben saved me from death by Mabudofu, by teaching me how to make Cha Han, thereby determining my dietary patterns for the next month or so. Afterwards we went for a couple of drinks with some friend’s in Ebisu, where I realised that I could simply pour the Coke Zero that I had in my bag into an empty glass, thereby saving me ¥400 a pop, whilst furthering my tendencies for stereotypical Northern behaviour. Now where did I put my whippet and flat cap?