As I sat watching all these wee 'uns strutting their stuff on the dance floor it was interesting for me to see typical dance traits emerging at such a young age.
- The wallflower: not moving from this chair; here for the night thank you very much;
- The can't-dance-got-no-rthymn-but-I-don't-know-it
- The smoothies. In time to the music, great moves etc. Do they practise and practise at home?
- The trying-too-hard-to-copy-every-move-of-the-smoothies, but not quite getting it.
- The "I'm only here for the refreshments" (this is my kind of dance routine)
- The "I want my mummy" complete with tears.
I can just about handle set dances such as barn dances where the moves are prescribed, but disco danching... BLEAH. I'd rather shave my head with a cheese grater, lick a hedgehog or insert bannanas up my nose. It just feels so daft. I don't get it. This is my typical dance experience:
The music is beating (far too loud by the way) and I'm suppossed to jiggle my arms and legs around. After a few minutes of doing the same movement back and forwards with my feet I sense a need to somehow change the motion so it appears I might know what I'm doing, so I start side stepping to the side, and my arms...what do I do with my arms...I've held them at right angles for ages, maybe I should hang them down to the side, maybe a slight click of the fingers in time to the music...nope that didn't work, I so hope nobody noticed me doing that...now my wife is smiling at me...that is not an 'I love you' look.. I know that look...it's the pity look.. she's thinking "you poor miserable soul, someone hand me a gun now, so I can put him out of his misery"....please end, please, please end this song....I so hope the next song is a slow one - I can handle slow songs with a jiggle back and forwards for a few minutes. Oh the pain. Oh the misery. How I suffer.
I wasn't always this way. I blame my mission. I entered the mission field with music in my blood. I could listen to the same small vinyl record over and over again. I even had a trendy tape cassette player (a reasonably portable one), so I could listen to music on the go (you could actually get about 15 songs on one cassette - can you believe that? 15 whole songs that could travel with me (amazing this technology stuff). And I wanted to dance. I knew the words, sensed the beat, and could easily be sucked into another world. As a teenager I loved the idea of going to dances. I'd could feel the beat of the music in my blood, I actually had rythm (at least I think I did) and could dance the night away. I'd leave dances sweating.
But, my mission sucked the moves right out of me. As an RM my first dance back was a nightmare, and I have no desire to move to the beat anymore.
So just a warning... on those rare occassions that you see me at a dance you are welcome to nod in my direction and think something like 'Oh, look at poor Peter. Sitting like a wallflower, slowly drinking some strange lemonade conncoction, and a nice pile of goodies balanced on a floppy paper plate' BUT, if thoughts like 'I'm going to go over there and invite him and Nicola onto the dance floor. He's just a bit shy and hesitant and his wife so wants to dance. Yes...that is what I will do." Well, think again. Do not meddle in our sensitive marital dance relationships. Even if my wife looks like she is bored out of her mind she is not really. She is loving just sitting next to me watching the world go by nibbling on a Pringle and making shapes with her napkin. It is the way it should be. All sports need spectators and we were born to spectate.
My next fear.... in 3 years time my daughter is 14!! Please, please, please....whoever is in charge of stake dances remember that I want to be there to support her, but you really, really, really need my help to serve refreshments, wash dishes, park cars, dust hmyn books, and check toilet paper levels.
