A couple of years ago, while walking the pup through our village, I stopped at the notice board to see if there was anything interesting pinned to it. Usually the board holds the most recent minutes of the Parish Council meetings and small, handmade adverts. On this particular day a new advert had been pinned up, a dance class.
‘Oooo. I wonder if Mr D would come with me. Every year when the tv show, Strictly Come Dancing, comes on, he says he’d love to learn to dance properly.’
Taking a note of the contact details, Pup and I head on our way. Once home, I broached the subject with Mr D.
‘How was your walk today? Did pup behave herself or was it the usual walk of shame?’ enquired Mr D as I gave Pup a rub down.
‘It was interesting, and unusually, Pup was well behaved. Incidentally there was a new note on the village board.’ I reply, trying to work out how to frame my next question for a positive outcome.
‘Was it the latest council meeting minutes? Who’s stirring it up in the village this time?’ he chuckled.
‘No, it was an advert for a local dance class. They teach waltz and tangos and others, you know, the stuff you’ve always fancied learning’ (nice one Cath!) I reply as nonchalantly as possible.
‘Really? Where and when?’
Yes, I have him on the hook.
‘It’s every Tuesday in the neighbouring village hall where I used to do yoga classes.’
‘Sounds fun. I’ll give that a bash. Give them a call and let’s see how it goes.’
A quick phone call to the club organiser for more details and we were signed up. I had to strike while the iron was hot, or more to the point, before Mr D got the chance to overthink it and back out.
The first few classes were hilarious. While both of us a reasonable dancers, we were absolute beginners at a basic waltz. Each of us took it in turns to step on each other’s toes, go off on the wrong foot, or turn the wrong way, resulting in unexpected bashing into other couples and both of us feeling somewhat abashed at our lack of grace.
But that was then. Fast forward 18 months and we are no longer the newbies with two left feet each. We have a number of different dances under our belts and the two left feet have developed into a proper pair of feet, propelling us safely round the dance floor.
I’d love to learn the Argentinian Tango but as we are the youngest couple in the club, and we’re no Spring Chickens, this is unlikely. We don’t want to be responsible for any hip fractures in our classmates!
Wishing you all a wonderful Saturday.
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