By Norm(an) de Plume
"Why don't you come for dancing?" asked my friend Tommie some time ago. (Dancing, of course being classes in jive, waltz, cha cha etc.) I looked at her sadly, thinking she was handing me utter nonsense, as usual. She's quite good at it, champion level and all. It was then that it struck me that she had never really seen me dance.
And I dance with the rhythm, grace and ease of a rather fat walrus trying to get up a narrow flight of stairs. This is not to say that I have never learnt to dance. My mother once thought she ought to teach me to dance, and she did. Not a lot though you see, as our dog rather strongly objected to the whole affair. It decided to show its disapproval by clamping down on my mother's skirt while she was dancing, and that was the end of that.
I tried explaining all of this to my friend, but to no avail. Strangely enough, she managed to make me agree to come for dancing, although I knew from the start that it was not a good idea. Well, the die was cast. Thus began the preparation. Being one to prefer sandals over shoes, the first thing was to get a pair of shoes. It was not easy, though. It had to be flexible enough to dance in comfortably, but I also wanted a bit of a high sole so I could be saved the embarrassment of dancing with a taller person. Fortunately I managed to find a pair which served my needs reasonably well.
And on the eve of the first class, it struck me. I HAD TO ASK A GIRL TO DANCE! The very thought of it made me squeamish. I was never very good at this kind of thing. I spent a sleepless night agonizing over how I ought to ask a girl to dance.
The big day arrived. After satisfying myself that I looked presentable enough, I set off to the class. The first part was not too bad. Basically, the girls and boys danced separately rehearsing the steps. Not that I concentrated too much on the steps - I had more important things in mind. You've guessed it; I was looking for likely people to ask to dance with. You know, someone kindly looking or weak-sighted or whatever. Well, to cut a long story short, I asked a girl - and was flatly refused. With my ego in tatters, I stumbled along dazedly until my eyes rested on another female ( I couldn't have missed her - she was wearing a bright orange blouse I am certain that even astronauts orbiting the earth could have picked up). She agreed to dance, so I was saved the ignominy of having to sit on the sidelines and watch. Thankfully, this particular difficulty didn't crop up again as a good friend of mine decided to partner me for the remaining classes.
But of course, she can't help me for ever. And somehow I don't think I want to go through that kind of hassle again. No more 'slow...,slow..., quick! quick!' for me!
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