Judy P's Tickle Trunk

   This morning I watched an older couple head down the lane with their yoga mats under their arms. I too could be doing that, I thought to myself, going to the free yoga sessions on the beach on Tuesdays and Thursdays. But it would mean more shopping; a yoga mat, yoga pants, and an appropriate top. Besides, they probably do ‘partners’ yoga which means grasping the upended ankles of a stranger. Me being a farty McFart-fart from Fartville makes me dislike partners yoga. A lot. Besides, I don’t really need yoga classes – I get all the bending, stretching and twisting I need right at home in the camper. Allow me to illustrate:

There’s not enough room to stand up in my bedroom pose.

Is my boob falling out of my bathing suit pose.

I must get to the bathroom and the curtains aren’t closed and I’m only wearing my underwear pose.

I vow to squish every last one of you pesky ants pose.

There’s a no-seeum in the only spot on my back I can’t reach pose.

Rip that blaring smoke detector off the ceiling before the neighbour calls the fire department pose.

Shaving legs in camper bathroom pose.

Then again, I do love an excuse to go shopping. © all drawings and text Judy Parsons 2015