Once a dancer

This weekend I pottered around, mostly inside, tidying and sorting, sitting and standing.

When I went outside on the uneven ground I watched my steps very carefully.

I wondered about a cane and whether it would be more of a hindrance than a help at this stage and thought about youthfulness and the use and movement of the body and how the way we move has a big say in how we appear in relation to getting old.

 I quietly and momentarily grieved for the movement freedom of my youth and realised it was ironic that I should get this disease as I was, for many years, a dancer.