Pole Dancing ...

... in tiny animated icons; mostly set up in response to students asking for aides-memoires for the various moves we've done in class (yes I've only added a couple of Beginners moves so far, more to come later, shite broadband connection allowing).

Sigh ... the pole dance industry is a queer world. Could write a long ramble, but it ain't my style. Here's the condensed version: I am a one-woman band; I work my bollocks off to get where I am; I try to combine earning a living, sharing my passion and being an honourable human all at the same time ('business', for its own sake, ain't the be all and end all; ignore the human element at your peril). Mostly, I like to think I succeed; every now and then though I feel a tad done over by my better nature, and let me tell you, this may happen once, but it sure as hell does not extend to a second chance. I'm not going into specifics, as that, dahlinks, would be crass.

While I'm whingeing ... I bought Top Gear magazine as I do every December, for its glossy shit hot motors Wall Calendar. Hmmpphh - since when has an Audi R8 been a Supercar? And more to the point - NO ASTON MARTINS FOR 2008????? Bah. What's a girl to do for decent motoring eye candy? Answer: Move to The Boltons, Chelsea, where I passed 4 Astons parked in a row?!?!? by the roadside last Sat, must be one of the wealthiest streets in SW London.

Here's another pole icon to justify this blog: . Go help yourselves!