106. Gandhi and me.

IMG_3474.JPGI do travel a lot, there’s no denying it. So why am I still so shit at packing?

I turned up on this yoga holiday with no clothing that was remotely suitable for actually doing yoga.

I did bring a lot of pretty dresses though, that I won’t wear. Did I forget how hot hot can be? Yes. Again.

The only top that comes close is this one I have pictured, which I bought at Target in California for five dollars a couple of years ago. It’s a  conversation starter if nothing else.

So guess what I’m wearing twice a day on the yoga deck? Blending in is clearly not my priority.

Pants? I had to buy them dammit. I went to the shop, only one shop it’s fair to say. I’m not here to shop. I thought it would be bristling with yoga gear, and I guess it was if you think Gandhi’s last twenty items of clothing he was seen in were yoga gear.

The only, I repeat, the only pants that fitted me were a gray drop crotch number that stops at the knees. They’ll be really quite ideal when I’m 90 because no one will be able to tell I’m in adult nappies under all that swaddling.

Ironically they are perfect to practice yoga in, all soft and billowy and cooling in the heat.

So if you come by and you’re looking for me, just keep your eyes out for the basic witch swaddled in Gandhi pants.

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