I hate being late, especially when it’s to work. Today, because I’m still feeling vaguely inhuman, I decided to catch a tram back to the gym for my lunchtime yoga class instead of riding my bike. It seems I made a bad move, because the second tram (which was scheduled to come within two minutes of my arrival at the tramstop) didn’t arrive. I, along with a whole bunch of other disgruntled commuters, waited for ages, then I looked at my watch and worked out I could walk to Hunt’s and still be there on time.

Usually Murphy’s law says as soon as you start walking, the tram will come, and you’ll be too far away from a stop to catch it. Today Murphy’s law was in an especially ironic mood, as two trams came down Brunswick street, but both of them were wearing the evil double zero - or “special” title, meaning no passengers were allowed to get on. Every tram stop I passed was crammed with cursing, fist shaking people, watching the tram driver slyly smile as he whizzed by - that bastard!

So anyway, I walked as fast as I could down Brunswick Street, but since I was still slightly dizzy, I just couldn’t quite go at my normal pace. I ended up ringing Hunt’s and asking Natasha (the delightful new receptionist) to tell my yoga attendees I’d be there soon, but slightly late. It was only three minutes in the end, but as I ran in the door, mentally shrieking “calm blue ocean” to myself, it was pretty hard to pull out a zen yoga class. I also realised at the last minute that I’d left the music at home. But, as so often happens, after collecting my thoughts and getting my breath back, the class worked perfectly, even without music.

So tonight I’m having a bath and going to bed early. Miss M is spending the evening with her papa, so I’m planning to be asleep by 8.30pm at the latest. How tragic, but how true!

Today I’m loving: the idea of using my new Jurlique allegedly beautifying mask. God knows I need some help!

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