dancing for toffee, 14th December 2016

no, no, no, don’t make me… don’t make me dance, no, no, nooooooooo….. you see, dancing like pretty much everything else is one of my most impressive unskills, and it’s a very long list I’ll tell ya…….. I can flail my limbs like some demented kraken but actually dance in a way that could anywhere near be construed as ‘dancing‘, that’s another thing entirely……… I love dance, watching it especially, and I have danced, in discos, let me qualify that, in Rock discos, where the skill-set required ranged from belt-dancing (don’t ask), through headbanging (and yes it can be done with short or no hair, although way back in the days of yore I did actually have a mane of hair…… ‘mane’ being a slight exaggeration I admit) all the way to, you guessed it, flailing like a demented kraken…. consequently no talent or training required here….. and in ceilidhs, where despite a callers expert calling I still manage for fluff it…… I’ve even deludedly toyed with the notion of joining a dance group, maybe ballroom, capoeira, even zumba!…. I know right, imagine that….. (?…?)….. on second thoughts maybe don’t………… my ‘dancing‘ tends to now involve distributing my weight from one foot to the next with little happening in between except perhaps some lightly-demented kraken arms-flailing, but not too much, wouldn’t want people panicking and thinking I was….. a kraken!………… so you see dear reader, I cannot dance, like most everything else I never learned and instead I say I’m internalising the muse or soaking up the sound, or in truth self-consciously avoiding inevitable humiliation…….  should I ever be asked to go on Strictly Come Dancing (guffaws! of laughter hail from the cheap seats) then I’d mostly likely decline, the reason being my dancing comes complete with a health warning……

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