The Hills Are Alive, With The Sound Of…

I’m absolutely kicking myself for having ruined a near-perfect evening.

I didn’t feel like going to ballet tonight: I was all achey and crampy, bloated and sore, not feeling sylph-like at all. But I knew that I would feel better if I did go, so I forced myself.

It was marvellous... I got out of the house on time, walked briskly in the crisp autumnal air through the quiet, deserted streets of my twilit little village. Perfectly solitary and perfectly happy.

There were no sounds but those of my dainty feet scuffling through fallen leaves. Admittedly I did give myself a near cardiac arrest when I stepped heavily on a hazelnut that had fallen from someone’s tree and it made such a shockingly loud CRACK! that I nearly screamed. However, the adrenaline pumping through my body soon subsided into a pleasant attack of the giggles.

The ballet lesson was hard, but rewarding. The teacher really pushed us and we stretched every damn muscle in our aching, perspiring bodies. The music was beautiful: invigorating and soothing by turn, and we finished with stretching and warming down exercises while lying gratefully on the floor.

However, by the end of the lesson, my inner muscles were nearly screaming from the strain of having held back vast quantities of noxious gases that were fermenting in my gut. Yes, it’s time for another

Top Tip from Antipo For Preserving One’s Air of Feminine Grace and International Woman of Mystery

- For God’s sake, always refrain - desist! - from eating cabbage soup before a ballet class.

I made it through the class without mishap, thank goodness, and walked home alone. But the once silent streets and alleyways, now thankfully darkened, rang with the sounds of my relief.

Foolish, foolish Antipo! I'll bet Margot Fonteyn never ate cabbage soup, curried eggs, or even Mexican takeaways before a performance. When will I learn?