PLAYING THE MAN

 

PLAYING THE MAN

Back when I was just nineteen

I learned to ballroom dance;

how it came to happen

was totally by chance.

My manager’s young daughter

needed a chaperone,

so off to a dusty hall we went,

me and my plus one.

Because I was the elder girl

I had to play the man,

although I studied all the steps

a girl should know.

I can

even now dance properly,

but only if I lead –

try to steer me backwards

and I trip over my feet.

...............................................................................................

There's a lot of truth in this story, although later I did, thanks to a talented friend, learn to follow a man's lead when dancing. Since then I put more self-expression into my dancing, but even those days are over. I turned 80 a few days ago and the sight of me gyrating to modern tunes is not something I care to inflict on anyone else, but my feet still tap, and occasionally I dance, alone in my living room where nobody can see!

Thanks are due, as always, to Rochelle for hosting our group of writers on her blog,  https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Dale Rogerson for the image which prompted this week's stories. The 'Dance Studio' in which Juliet and I had our lessons was much less colourful, resembling as it did the entrance to a sleazy dive rather than the class establishment it claimed to be.

Two photos - one of me plus family and friends enjoying a pub lunch on The Big Day. The older man is the one who taught me to dance with a man! Taken by my elder daughter who flew in from Northern Ireland to surprise me.

And one with my younger grandson who was working but came round later.

I felt very loved.