Doing yoga on an adults only campsite at 7 in the morning sounded like an excellent idea.
If bedtime is at ten then at least you can get a full nights sleep.
Awaking refreshed and ready to face the day. A spot of yoga makes the perfect morning routine. Set to be relaxed, energised and ready to face anything .
The sun shining through morning clouds, bird song filling the air as they collect for their young. The perfect quiet atmosphere as trees gently sway and rustle in the breeze.
Yes, doing yoga sounded like the perfect idea.
Provided you get a good night sleep. That you aren’t fidgeting for an hour trying to find the most suitable sleeping position on the rock ‘n’ roll bed. Losing either your head or your hip in the dips where the bed folds back up into a seat.
That you can drift off while listening to every footstep on the gravel footpath right next to your van.
That the really strange animal that is making a really strange noise right outside doesn’t wake you, reminding your body that you need to pee. Really pee. Walk to the toilet block, in the pitch black of the night with a strange animal ready to pounce kind of pee.
Provided that you have a windbreak to provide shelter from prying eyes and the constant traffic to and from the toilets/showers opposite. Old ladies silently cursing and old men being, well…. old men.
And that your chosen mat placement isn’t right outside the kitchen window of the caravan on the next pitch.
Downward dog right into their window.
‘Indeed’ the dirty old man thought.
Yep. Great idea.
Still did it though.
Dedication to the practice.
Bloody wish places had dedicated yoga areas away from people. The dogs have an exercise field, why can’t I have an exercise field?
Nearly the same.