To go dancing!
It had been a wild night. Gale force winds and even stronger gusts. Unabashed, we got ready and drove to Bridge of Weir. Actually, apart from some buffeting on the M80, the drive was fairly incident free.
First dance today was Tina Tango which we both kinda knew. Kinda being the important word, but we blundered our way through, as did most of the class. Next was the new Rumba which now has the name Rumba Romantica. Some bits we’d been practising, some not. To be honest, we’d been practising the complicated stuff like the Alternative Sliding Doors (don’t ask) and the Circular Hip Twist which is as complicated as it sounds for the lady, but for the man is simply walking backwards. As always, these parts were adequately covered by the teachers, it was the links between them that caused most of the problems and also the fact that Jane had re-choreographed the Circular Hip Twist to make it ‘easier’, but it was almost impossible to practise on a carpet at home. We got through it all and learned more techniques than we’ll ever need to use.
We though that was us finished with the new stuff, but there was more in store. ‘Baby Waltz’ came next. It was a completely new waltz that I’ve filmed, watched and still have no clue about. Why, I ask myself, do I put myself through this every Saturday morning when I could be lying in bed reading a book? The answer is: Because it forces your brain to do something other that photography. Also because you learn stuff like how to maintain a ‘frame’ without twisting your neck or having your shoulders ache for the rest of the day. Thankfully a Midnight Jive or two brought today’s session to a close.
I can’t say I enjoy these dance classes, but I do learn things and some of it actually ‘sticks’.
We drove home along the M74 rather than crawl along the M8, although both these routes seemed to be eased by the majority of the Glasgow bound motorists choosing to go through the Clyde Tunnel, rather than go the normal route. Something to do with Batgirl which is turning Glasgow into a 1960’s Gotham City. We’ll never know. We took the road less travelled and went home via the M74/M73.
I took a walk over to the shops by way of St Mo’s looking for some decent light and finding it for once. PoD was a picture of a couple of yellow flowers on a Whin bush, or Gorse bush if you prefer, against a background of out of focus trees. Very arty and really quite good, I thought.
Watched a weird documentary about Andy Worhol who was actually born Worhola. Who knew? Hard do follow, but filled in a few explanations for bits I never knew. Watched through the lens of a glass of wine (or two), a bottle of beer and a glass of whisky, it made perfect sense. But then, most things do.
More wind and probably rain predicted for tomorrow. An anniversary of sorts, the important one, but not the official one. Celebrations necessary, none the less.