Before hot yoga kicked off at half past six this morning, Shona (dominatrix du jour while Marta is on a retreat in Thailand) apologised on behalf of Sara who had thought that perhaps she had pumped too much lemon grass into the atmosphere.
Nursing, as I was, a "gentleman's head" after a barbecue at Andy and Ollie's last night and pondering the miracle it was that I had made it to Elm Grove at all I shattered my customary mauna and told her - with all the dignity that I could gather prone on my back clad in nothing but my pants - that the precise make up of the morning's incense was among the least of my problems.
The Rawlinson motto "Omnes Blotto."
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