Hello, my name is Ryanair

I had my first U3A (University of the Third Age) Spanish class on Tuesday.

It's a big class with around 22 students, some of whom are spending their third year in basic Spanish! Either they are very slow learners or we have a very bad teacher. Judging from my impressions of the first class, it is the former that applies, but having said that I am struggling to remember one Duolingo lesson for more than an hour!

I sat next to a couple who are learning Spanish because their son is marrying a Catalan woman; we had something slightly in common, although Ecuador is more exotic, so I felt I had the upper hand.

The chap on the other side was a committed South American traveller. He's done Chile, Peru, Bolivia, Cape Horn and Easter Island - the only Spanish he knows is: "can you speak English?" Next year, he is off to Argentina, the Falklands, Drake's Passage and Chile. He plans to drive all the way up Chile. I couldn't get away from him at the end, he was very keen to tell me about his adventures. I think if I'd asked him if he had any pictures, I'd still be looking at his smartphone. I'll ask him next week.

The "dunces" in the class included one woman, who claimed she couldn't remember anything she learned last year and couldn't introduce herself in Spanish; also a chap who can't roll his rrrs. They both seemed very happy to still be in basic Spanish and not in any great hurry to leave. There was also an odd chap called Pinder, who won't tell anyone his first name and who got very grumpy when it was suggested we buy textbooks on Amazon. "What was wrong with bookshops?" he wanted to know. Also, Pinder couldn't work out what he was called when it was his turn to introduce himself, which is a bit poor considering he's already ditched 50 per cent of his name. You'd have thought three words: "me llamo Pinder" would have been easy enough.

Our tutor, John, was very good; he explained things clearly, he's laid back and has a sense of humour. He knows Spanish through working as an engineer in northern Spain during the 1990s.

We started by going through the alphabet, which has good, clear rules, but more nuances than English. I learned that I drive a bay emmay oobay doblay (BMW), but most Spaniards call them bay emmays and, amusingly, a VW is an oobay, oobay doblay. I also learned that my name is Ehric Ryanair (rolling both Rs) Littleh. I'm not very happy about sounding like a budget airline, but what can I do?

We are learning to speak Castellano, which has slight differences in pronunciation from South American Spanish, but I think that's the least of my worries right now. I have to miss next week's class because I'm in Jersey, but John has promised to mail me the exercise sheet. I'll have to swot up on that, plus my Dualingo if I'm ever to escape to the intermediate class.

I've taken up yoga

I've taken up yoga. It was always my plan to do so when I retired (I thought it would be a good way to help me to remain supple, or even to get more supple).

Sam was extolling the benefits of yoga when we were in France and he demonstrated a few moves for us – Warrior seems to be his favourite – and he made a convincing case. When we got back, my sister had left a note about the yoga class she attends, which was starting up again for a six-week run this week.

It’s organised by Peterborough branch of the University of the Third Age (U3A) and so we needed to join that before we could go. Margaret seemed very grumpy about me joining and was grumbling about mixing with too many old people, getting old before my time and octogenarians. I’ve also joined the Family History Group as well and that caused a new round of grumbling (I think she’s getting old).

Anyway, on Wednesday this week, we had our first yoga class. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but turned up in my tracksuit ready for action. Sister Margaret had promised me there would be no chanting ...

So I find myself lying on the floor at Eastfield Community Centre, eyes closed, feeling my breathing, not controlling it, just feeling the breaths coming in and going out; I’m supposed to be able to feel my diaphragm, my weight against the floor. I’m asked to imagine myself on a beach, the sun is warm, there’s a warm breeze blowing ... I’m finding it hard to forget I’m in Eastfield Community Centre, but I’m doing my best.

I should feel the power of the sun flowing unto me, the strength of the sea and the sand (since when has sand been strong). I’m feeling a bit silly, but everyone else seems happy enough ...

Much to my disappointment, we don’t start with Warrior; we start by lying on the floor and trying to stretch ourselves out, I learn to stretch out my heels, which pulls my calf muscles and I also find that I can’t get my right arm above my head and flat on the floor. I’m not sure why, but it’s been stiff for some time.

Step 2 is to pull up your legs and let them down while breathing in and out. I don’t think I’m going to be very good at yoga because when I bring my legs up I forget to breathe out or else find I’m breathing in halfway through – who would have thought synchronising your breathing with lifting your legs would be quite so hard!

Still lying on your back, we next had to bring our legs up, then move them over to one side, knees together and at the same time turn your head in the opposite direction. Now I could feel some serious stretching happening.

Next, we had to do the Bridge. Lie down, pull you heels up and (keeping your back straight) lift your bum off the floor. There were also some instructions about when to breathe in and out (which are probably important) but I couldn’t get them in my head and now I’ve completely forgotten. I quite liked the Bridge, it’s not as spectacular as Warrior, but (again) I could feel some stretching going on, which is good.

That was enough lying down for one day. Next exercise was to sit, pull one leg in at right angles, placing the sole of your foot on the opposite inner thigh. I could do that! We then had to stretch the other leg and move your head and arms (straight back) to touch the toe on the extended leg. Having achieved that (breathing out when I should have been breathing in) it was time to change legs. Again, definite stretching being achieved.

The last exercise (before we had a final lie-down) was to stand up, stand on one leg with the other leg raised and the sole of your foot on the calf of the supporting leg. You them raise your arms above your head, palms together and bring them down into a prayer. It’s harder than you think to stand on one leg, harder still to do it and breathe!

Well I quite enjoyed my first yoga class and next day I could tell I had been stretching. I wasn’t stiff, but I was aware of muscles that I didn’t ordinarily think much about.

I think Margaret enjoyed it too. She hasn’t said anything mean about U3A since the class, even when I goaded her with a story about my Family History friend Roger asking me if I was interested in joining the Railway group.