Age and a Highly-Strung Ham.

Ouch.
Remind me of them good old days when hamstrings felt normal, please.

Ouch.

So, yours truly decided to give unnecessary risk a whole new meaning when I attempted to demonstrate a 'split' while dancing at a mini-performance this weekend. The last time I did a split was around twelve years ago, at some absurd school show. Two dozen years later, you'd think wisdom would have set in along with age by now, but nooo... I just had to go and try it again, didn't I...

I blame senility. And his sister denial.

BUT, on a positive note (abject pain aside), I did manage to split quite successfully during the performance. Not once, but twice. At least I know it's still possible, and I don't need to do Anlene shots just yet.

The reason for all this pain and misery? A cast trip.

Having recently concluded our run of 'Blood Brothers', the WSP committee got together and organized a cast trip for all thoe involved in the production. This year's venue of choice was Hotel Mermaid in Kalutara. (I was pleasantly surprised by the place, btw... I fully expected some two-star sleazy joint, and instead enjoyed some fabulous comforts worthy of a four-star hotel) We went with a massive to-do list in hand, complete with numerous group activities and what not. Everyone was on an all-time energy high, singing boozing and dancing at the drop of a hat all the way there.... everyone, that is, except me. All I did was curl up in the back of the chaotic bus and want to nap. I figured it was because I'd had a late night the previous evening, and told myself that once we'd gotten to the hotel and started on our activities, I'd be up and hopping like an energizer bunny.

Once at the hotel, we got our keys and made our way to our quite plush rooms. Assuming that it would take the gang a few minutes to settle themselves in, I plopped on the bed and turned on the tv. Before I knew it, I was snoring like a bulldog with sinus trouble.

And that's all I did, and can remember from the rest of the trip.

Of course, it was interspersed with short moments of awareness, when we rehearsed for and participated in the evening's performance (we held a grand 'oscar' style awards night to honour individual efforts during the production),where my thigh so rudely gave out in the middle of a 'cats' dance number. Then there were the few times I descended on the hotel restaurant to stuff myself with whatever food was available. But apart from that, I saw more of my bed than I did of anyone or anything else related to the cast trip. I still have no idea what happened on that trip with the rest of the cast, because I was far too busy dreaming absurdities under my very nice white bedsheet for two whole days.

Gah. I remember when cast outings were nothing but 42-hour raves, with sleep finding us only once we'd gotten back home. High intensity vacations filled with water polo, volleyball, dance competitions and spirited jam sessions. But now.... now all I do is fart in my sleep right through the whole trip. Next stop, menopause.

Sigh. Ouch.