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Today I dragged myself to yoga, in driving rain, to find an almost empty studio instead of the usual mob. The teacher asked how we all were so in a momentary pause in my currently continual weeping, I said that I was pretty low. "In your heart," he said, telling me as much as asking me. For the whole class, I suddenly realised, each time I came out of a posture before the others he immediately called an end to that posture, although I was by far the oldest, least experienced and least fit member of the group and would usually just wait, or maybe have another go. It made me feel very cared for, which obviously led to a few more streams of water falling out of my eyes, down my face and onto my T shirt. Apart from when I was upside-down, when it ran into my hair. My eyebrows (along with my pubes) mostly fell out when I had my first breakdown, so there's a clear run through.

Our drag queen plans have had to be simplified due to exhaustion, endless rain and impassable roads. We haven't shelved the idea, but it won't be as full on.

I just watched a programme on Channel 4 about British Muslim drag queens. Talk about brave.

Today I am grateful for: a warm bedroom; a roof over my head; being a middle-class, straight(ish), white woman and therefore not getting the kind of vile shit too many people live with just for being themselves; yoga teacher; a blog to moan in

Sweet dreams xxx

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