Dear J: I am in physical pain. My inner thighs burn and my chest feels as though someone has tried to spread my ribs apart with their bare hands. Whilst doing class today I was thinking a lot. A continuous back chat, sometimes directly related to digesting a particular movement; working out how something should feel if I was executing it in the right way and sometimes completely random thoughts like worrying about the logistics of Friday. I remembered how a ballet teacher had once told me to stop fucking thinking (about the movement) and just do it. That doesn't mean to approach something without thinking, moreover to not disect until there is nothing left that is of any use.

During an after-class drink which consisted of two stiff whiskeys over ice, I brushed on the subject of holes. I realised that holes had affected my teacher as well at various points in his life (not concrete ones though) and that his holes usually arose as a result of an overdose of inner dialogue. The more he thought, the deeper the hole.

I also tried to broach the subject of holes with a friend at lunch, sitting in the formica and faux leather booths at The Fryers Delight. He however was more interested in eating the fish and chips on his plate, as well hoping that I wouldn't notice him eating the rest of my lunch as I became lost in my hole speak.

I'm going to try and do more doing. I want to feel ready to move and thus be present. Feeling present requires you to approach things instinctively, with less time to ponder and muse and further down the line to sometimes unravel, with just a pile of crinkled dirty wool to show for your efforts.

First step though is to get to grips with that rule number one: get up immediately when alarm sounds. I still managed to eventually haul myself out of my bed-hole half an hour later.