Yoga and charity

What a difference a sunny day makes. And a gorgeous neighborhood like Chelsea. And a fantastic deal -- a yoga class for £1.25.
May have finally found a yoga class in London that I like. Especially for the price.
The Brits are just amazing at charities. Nobody does a charity like a Brit.
I found a charity called Open Age that operates a center in Chelsea, one of the nicest neighborhoods of London -- and only a few Tube stops away on my same line -- with all kinds of cheap classes for people over 50.
Some of the people hanging out at the center may have been closer to 80, but who cares? It was nice.
First of all, the building was bloody gorgeous, as a British friend of mine likes to say when something is just, well, freakin' gorgeous.
A centuries-old brick building built around a courtyard with an orangery, where the center had put a cafe.
Sun streamed in through the gleaming old windows of the center's foyer when I walked in.
The Brits have the biggest, cleanest windows of any nation, I think. It's so they can let in as much unfiltered sun as possible when the sun finally does come out. The Italians have little windows they can completely shade -- to keep the sun out.
Fresh vegetables were laid out in baskets for sale on a quaint little table in the foyer. Fresh flowers were dotted around. The two women behind the desk could not have been more pleasant.
And all they wanted from me was £1.25. They gently asked if I minded filling out a short membership form, so they could keep their funding, they said. No membership fee though. And they were so appreciative when I said sure -- and then actually did it.
The class was good too. The teacher was a lot more attentive than other classes I've been to in London, checking postures, not rushing, and concentrating on the breathing. Only half a dozen people in the class. Some elderly.
Just fine. Haven't done yoga since we left our house, over a year now. Not feeling that flexible these days.
Class a bit barebones maybe. No lights turned down, no clanging golden gongs to finish you off with, no candles or incense, but same principles of yoga nevertheless. My legs are sore now from holding the poses, which is good.
After the class, I had a cappuccino in the cafe, staffed by people with learning disabilities the sign said, and then walked around the tidy sun-lit streets of Chelsea. Through the stunningly beautiful Duke of York barracks, where the Saatchi modern art gallery is.
A group of young British boys in school uniforms kicked a soccer ball around the expansive lawn in front of the gallery. Dozens of people sat outside in the sun sipping cappuccinos and tea at the museum's outdoor cafe, faces pointed toward the sun, reading their newspapers or chatting amiably.
The sun glistened off all the big, clean windows of the row upon row of cute little attached houses, many with flowering plants out front.
Bloody gorgeous, the whole lot.
Came home. My son's out. So pleased he's outside somewhere enjoying this day.
Ommmm.