I’ll admit that I have never liked dancing. Not the slow
dancing when you hold a lady tightly, or the faster dances like the samba, cha
cha cha, or the modern dances where people stand in front of each other and
shake like demented chickens.
The reason I don’t like dancing is because I am not good at
it. I’m all uncoordinated and my feet are too big. Dancing partners always trip
over them or get trodden by me. And should I ever stand on tip toe like a
ballerina my head hits the ceiling and dislodges some tiles.
You can imagine therefore my dread and fear when Aunt
Gertrude read in the newspaper that
there was a dance meeting at the local town hall featuring music from Glenn Miller,
Benny Goodman and other big bands from years gone by.
“Och aye … that would be great fun!” encouraged Uncle
Herbert who is also visiting us from Dundee to meet
Auntie from Adelaide.
“We should all go cobbers!” she enthused looking at me for
support.
“Yes … I agree.” I said, “we should all go except me because
someone should stay at home just in case the phone rings and needs answering …”
My reasoned argument was dismissed and we all went to the
dreaded dance.
As soon as the band played “In the Mood” and I definitely
wasn’t; Aunt Gertrude insisted that I take to the floor with her. She pulled me
by the arm so hard that I heard it break off my armpit joint. There was no
stopping her. In her loud Australian accent she insisted that I “lighten up”
and “stop getting my underpants in a twist”.
To humour her, and just because I’m such a gentleman, I
agreed to dance with her. But I didn’t know what to do. How do you dance to “In
the Mood”?
I stepped accidentally on her feet twice. She grimaced the
first time and said I danced like a pregnant kangaroo the second time.
The tune went on for ages, followed by Chattanooga Choo
Choo, Pensylvania 6-5000 and then Moonlight Serenade.
I don’t know where she gets all her energy from. I was soon
out of breath and yet she was as light on her feet as someone half her age.
Thankfully, after the first tune Uncle Herbert came to the dance floor and took
over from me.
“Och … these young ‘uns are not so sprightly as we are!” he
joked.
“Fair dinkum, mate!” she agreed as they both danced together
admirably.
It was a long night. They enjoyed the dancing. I enjoyed the
beer. And I was right … when we got home the phone had rung twice and the
answering machine had to do what I would have done had I been there!
I love how you find humor in everything Victor. You are a wonderful storyteller. (Even if you aren't a good dancer!)
ReplyDeleteGod Bless.
Dancing can be so difficult Michael.
DeleteGod bless you.
we are kindred souls; we both can laugh at ourselves and find humour in calamity
ReplyDeleteYes Melanie. The calamity is that I cannot dance.
DeleteGod bless.
I love dancing, but apparently my girlfriend hates it when I step on her toe and threaten to break her arm when I try a twist. I don't know what to do! Why does it have to be so difficult?!
ReplyDeleteBlessings,
Jose D. Pinell.
At least you love dancing, Jose, and that's a step in the right direction. I don't really enjoy dancing. Too self-conscious I suppose.
DeleteGod bless.
That must have been a sight to see, Victor :) I love the mental pictures you create through your humorous stories!
ReplyDeleteYes, you're probably right. Me and Aunt Gertrude dancing !!!!!
DeleteGod bless.
I'm calling my mom and aunt straight away, because somehow I missed the latest installment on Aunt Gertrude! Was there no one with a cell phone who could have taken pictures? You could have had a viral video on your hands. : )
ReplyDeleteBlessings always +
Hi Caroline,
DeleteYes ... unfortunately there is a video. Please check this link:
http://timeforreflections.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/tu-vo-fa-lamericano.html
I hope your mom, aunt and you enjoy it.
God bless.
Victor, I can't dance either. Some of us are just not wired up right for that, er, sport.
ReplyDeleteThat's exactly it, Barbara. I am just not built for dancing. My hobby is sitting down.
DeleteGod bless.