Mlle Tialys the Elder has been pole dancing. Apparently it is a legitimate form of exercise. When she was doing a class earlier in the year, close to her University on the South Coast, she did it in shorts and trainers (I think). Now, she is doing an internship in London and when she rang to ask for details about a local class they said ‘some of the ladies like to wear high heels’. Do they now! I was a little worried because even though I flung myself about in spandex à la Jane Fonda back in the day, there was never a pole in sight. Unless you count the one holding up the pub sign where I usually ended up after class to down a swift lager and lime. Anyway, we have communicated by text this morning and she appears to have escaped being kidnapped by shady characters and was designated as being worthy of the ‘intermediate’ class. Perhaps it’s best if she doesn’t get too advanced.
Anyway, when she first started this pole dancing lark, she made me laugh by telling me about hanging upside down on the pole and having to lower herself slowly to the ground and her thighs were making a loud squeaking, creaking noise against the pole as she descended which resounded around the room and that reminded me of this –
Forget all those other famous lines from classic films, ‘Feed me – if you dare’ has got to be my favourite. Plus, how gorgeous is Antonio Banderas’ voice?
Talking of cats – which we sort of were – on one of my rummages recently I spotted this poster for an art exhibition. It just gets into the ‘vintage’ category (or the American one at least), being over 20 years’ old, so I bought it for my shop but I then made the mistake of hanging it on my wall and now I just might have to keep it.
A bit on the creepy side, I know but just look at that cat’s face. He reminds me of my own long suffering black cat Salem. Every summer he gets eaten by some sort of insect and his face, eyes and ears go all scabby and sore looking. I put cream on which helps a bit but it happens every summer and, round about this time of year, it clears up and you’d never know he’d ever been affected. It’s so bad that, if he wasn’t mine and I saw him wandering around, I would think he was a poor neglected creature with no home to go to. As it is, if I see him and I’m in company, I just pretend not to know him which saves any embarrassment and wards off threats to report me to whatever passes for the R.S.P.C.A. around here.
Of course, I also have a cat that looks like Shrek’s Puss in Boots
Who has also let himself go and is not ashamed to show it.
(He is alive in this photo by the way)
Back to sewing, knitting, crafting news next time but a change is as good as a rest to a blind horse as somebody who likes to mix up their proverbs might say and, anyway, I have too many projects on the go and nothing ready or worth photographing yet.
Yes, I know I should really have called this post ‘Pole Dancing And Cats’ but that wouldn’t have sounded quite so intriguing so I sort of cheated.