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The Black Dog
Oct. 27th, 2009 11:34 amIt could be the time of year, it could be the stupidity of my fellow-countrymen, it could be the latest Philip Kerr 'Berlin Noir' novel: but somehow I'm not quite as chirpy as usual.
The aetiology of the lack-of-chirpiness aside, The Wife has enrolled the two of us in a dancing class, starting tonight. My joy knows no bounds. I'm beginning to blame the BBC for all my ills: Strictly Come Dancing has a lot to answer for.
When it comes to dancing I tend to side with Fitzwilliam Darcy. As a young man at school I assiduously avoided all dancing classes, as I felt that ballroom was not for me. Candidly, I would rather have played Rugby, and I pretty much hated that: being up to my armpits in freezing mud on a November afternoon was not my idea of a good time.
But, however, and nevertheless....I will put a brave face on't, climb into a pair of proper shoes, and give it my best shot. I shall try to disguise my two left feet, and I shall try to concentrate on moving my body in an elegant fashion, which given my history of accidents (offset hips from a motorcycle mishap in my early twenties etc & etc.) will be a source of amusement to my teacher, if not my partner.
I may retaliate in kind by signing Madame up for a course of Bridge lessons: if it is a social requirement to be able to dance, it should also be a requirement to learn how to play the prince of card games. And it will give me an excuse to sharpen up my game too.
In the meantime I can give a qualified recommendation for this:
Not as good as the first three, but still not entirely without merit.
The aetiology of the lack-of-chirpiness aside, The Wife has enrolled the two of us in a dancing class, starting tonight. My joy knows no bounds. I'm beginning to blame the BBC for all my ills: Strictly Come Dancing has a lot to answer for.
When it comes to dancing I tend to side with Fitzwilliam Darcy. As a young man at school I assiduously avoided all dancing classes, as I felt that ballroom was not for me. Candidly, I would rather have played Rugby, and I pretty much hated that: being up to my armpits in freezing mud on a November afternoon was not my idea of a good time.
But, however, and nevertheless....I will put a brave face on't, climb into a pair of proper shoes, and give it my best shot. I shall try to disguise my two left feet, and I shall try to concentrate on moving my body in an elegant fashion, which given my history of accidents (offset hips from a motorcycle mishap in my early twenties etc & etc.) will be a source of amusement to my teacher, if not my partner.
I may retaliate in kind by signing Madame up for a course of Bridge lessons: if it is a social requirement to be able to dance, it should also be a requirement to learn how to play the prince of card games. And it will give me an excuse to sharpen up my game too.
In the meantime I can give a qualified recommendation for this:
Not as good as the first three, but still not entirely without merit.
