The Last Dance

 

Let me tell you a true very sad story. Elenora and Frederic Hill, two friends of ours, were very nice people and greatly loved by everyone.

They were devoted to each other and their love remained strong all the years they were together. They were an example to us all, especially when things go wrong in life. 

Especially since Elenora and Frederic Hill had themselves a difficult life together. She was often ill and in and out of hospital, he lost his job because he looked after his beloved wife and his employer could no longer tolerate his many absences.

They struggled through the years. They loved dancing and often went to the local dance hall on Saturday evenings, when they could afford it. They were poor but dancing was their only joy, and I believe it was that which kept them together. Although as Elenora got more poorly they did not dance as often.

One day, some friends went to visit them but no one answered the door. Fortunately one of them had a key in case of emergency, so they let themselves in.

Tragically, they found Elenora and Frederic Hill sitting on the sofa motionless. They could not wake them up. They checked for a pulse ... there was none. They shook them; no response.

They phoned for an ambulance. 

Someone noticed the record player was on. The needle had reached the end of the song but the record kept going round and round. Maybe they were listening to their favourite dance music before ... ... ... 

Elenora and Frederic Hill had danced their last dance together.

Out of curiosity someone picked up the gramophone handle and placed the needle at the beginning of the record again. 

The sound of their favourite music blared loudly once again.

How sad ... everyone stood there their eyes welling with tears.

But then, Elenora Hill flickered her eyelids ... so did Frederic Hill. They opened their eyes slowly and saw their friends gathered there around them.

Everyone was amazed ... and said ... "The Hills are alive with the sound of music!" 

*******

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Elenora and Frederic Hill live next door to Margaret and James Ball. One day a car crashed against a tree in the garden adjoining both properties. Fortunately for the driver he was pulled out of the car by the Hills.

Christmas Dance

 

Last night some friends invited us to a Christmas Party. It was held in a large hall and they had over fifty guests and a wonderful Italian band. Here's a short video of me dancing with my wife. Grab your partner and join in.

AND NOW

LET US TWIST

 

High Class Do

 

Have you ever been to one of those high-class posh types of dances, or parties, where the men dress in penguin suits with bow ties, and the women normally have very tight revealing low cut dresses showing their bosoms?

I remember going to such an event years ago in London. I just found the "program" they gave us at the time. Yes, a beautifully printed on quality paper program of events, with the names of all those attending listed there. 

It was a really high-class birthday celebration for a friend of mine at the time. It was held at a top hotel where a man in a bright red uniform would announce your arrival as soon as you got in, and everyone would turn round to see your entrance and greet you with a smile; or in my case, total indifference and disdain.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Mr Victor Moo ... Moo ..." he stuttered, not being able to pronounce my name, nor having the wit or inclination to check how to pronounce it beforehand.

I whispered my name quietly.

"Whatever," he said as I got in and no one cared. 

I noticed a man a short distance away, with a beautiful young lady, turn round, look at me and snigger with derision.

That's when I gave way to the devil at my side. I made a bee-line towards him, walking like Groucho Marx used to, and when I got there I said, "Hello Mr eh ... hmmm ... I'm so sorry. I make a point never to forget a name or a face, but in your case I make an exception. I hope this gorgeous lady will bother to remember you better than me; but somehow I doubt she likes cockroaches!"

Then before he had a chance to say anything, I left and walked straight to the bar where I met the birthday boy and his friends. They were really down to earth lovely people who greeted me like a star. The birthday boy, or man, apologised for the announcer's faux-pas and was genuinely most hurt at my treatment.

I'm reading some of the names from the program of events which I've just found amongst my papers.

There was Mrs Madeleine Byteme-Legg, with her husband Professor Thomas Legg. Apparently she insisted upon keeping her maiden name when they got married.

From Stirling in Scotland there was Mr and Mrs Strapp with their young son Jock Strapp.

Mr and Mrs Lear with their daughter Crystal-Shandi.

Also there was the famous opera singer Melissa Tone with her husband Barry Tone.

I recognised my old friends Mr and Mrs Dover with their daughter Eileen. I remember she had a REALLY low cut dress. She'd been on a peanut and melons diet. The peanuts did not have any effect on her figure, however ...

Brigadier Turner arrived late. On his journey to the hotel his car crashed into two houses side by side belonging to old friends of his, John and Mary Ball, and Robert and Helena Jones. What are the chances of that happening? The car nearly caught fire but luckily he was pulled out of the car by the Joneses.

Looking at all these names brings back memories of old friends and acquaintances like Mr and Mrs Stick and their daughter Ella. To call her a friend would be stretching it a bit; but she was good fun until I made a snap decision to end it all.

I also recall the somewhat superstitious couple who always tried to anticipate every eventuality. What was their name ... oh here it is in the program. Mr And Mrs Case and their son Justin. 

I don't know about you, but I am not superstitious. Just a little stitious at times. For instance, I would never walk under a black cat. 

What a party and what an evening that was. I wonder if you were also there and at the time we had not met each other and get acquainted. Do you remember anyone else at that party?

Oh ... by the way. That man who sniggered at me when I arrived. His luck soon ran out. I went out with the lady he was with at the time. We became good friends!!!

Dance ... Dance ...

 

I must confess I’ve always wanted to be a professional dancer. Just like Fred Astaire or any other dancers you see in the movies and on TV.

The problem is I have big feet. Enormous feet!

When I get on the dance floor there is no room for anyone else because of my big feet. They take over the whole dance area.

And when I dance I tread on other peoples’ feet. If it’s a slow dance with the lights dimmed right down people trip on my feet and fall all over the place. I’ve had to put little flashing yellow lights on my shoes and a bleeping sound so that people can see my feet in the dark.

People say that the lights add to the atmosphere on the dance floor but the bleeping sound interferes with the music.

Someone suggested I take up line dancing. In line dancing people stand next to each other and mostly move sideways; so there’s no danger of stepping on anyone’s toes.

I tried line dancing. My big feet moved so slowly sideways that other dancers tripped over them as they moved left or right.

I tried ballet dancing. When I stood on tip-toe my head hit the ceiling and brought down a few tiles.

At a wedding once I danced the Hokey Cokey (Hokey Pokey). You know the one?

You put your left leg in, your left leg out,

In out in out, you shake it all about,

You do the Hokey Cokey and you turn around

That’s what it’s all about.

It was quite a sight seeing everyone else fall all over the floor whenever I stuck my feet out. At one point my big foot came out so suddenly it hit Aunt Matilda in the face sending her spectacles flying in the air. Everyone stopped to search for her glasses and I inadvertently kicked a few of them to the floor as I continued dancing not realizing what had happened.

The birdie song wasn’t a success either … nor was the conga line dance when they all follow each other across the floor.

So regrettably, Fred Astaire and all other famous dancers will get no competition from me. I’ll just sit on the side lines tapping my feet to the music … and watch everyone else bounce about as I shake the floor boards with my big feet.