Timeless as plastic fetching as bare brown feet in indigo rubber at the post xmas sales frazzled I don’t recognise my yoga buddies dressed and standing, should I sit? Then I remember last night’s dream. Doctor tells me I still have some eggs left. wtf. Naturally, it’s only a metaphor, over egged and tireless as a calendar poet’s ovaries but should I worry? I’m two months overdue, and under egged.