Chez Spud

Go on...I dare you...

Care to dance? Fancy a spin round the dancefloor with me? Spin me, twirl me, jitterbug and whirl me…let’s bop, let’s jive, let’s shimmy and shake…let’s strut our stuff until our big fat ankles ache…

Oooh I’m getting all poetic. Rhyming ‘n’ everfink. So do you? Care to take a spin with me and  dance like there’s nobody watching? Well, you’d better pray nobody is watching if you’re dancing with me because, frankly, it’s embarrassing.

You know those awkward looking souls always hugging the edge of the dance floor, swaying and rocking and jigging from foot to foot whilst throwing murderous glances in the direction of the cool kids who really know how to throw some shapes? Yup, that’s me, I’m one of those.

I’m actually very peeved that the cool dancing gene passed me by as, in my head, I can really trip the light fantastic, man, I’m on fire on the dance floor.  My mother was a ballet/tap/modern dance teacher so surely I should be able to manage a bit of disco dancing? But, no, my entire repertoire consists of (a) the shuffle (b) the sway and (c) what can only be described as ‘the lurch, with pointing’.

Alcohol doesn’t improve matters, quite the opposite. All it does is unleash an inner, deep belief that I am a brilliant disco dancer. Enter a new Spud dance in to the equation which is ‘the lurch, with pointing, AND SINGING ALONG LOUDLY’ even though I never know the words. Oh no…I’m blushing now as I remember Discos of Yore and my shambolic performances.

Alas said discos were not in some village hall in my youth. Oh no, I’m talking about work functions and many, many of them. I’m surprised I’m still in employment actually. There may even have been an episode of AIR GUITAR, complete with something tied around my head, on a balcony in the ballroom of the Waldorf hotel, with an audience of all 700 partners of the law firm I worked for at the time. Shudder.

MrSpud is pretty ‘special’ on the dancing front too. He compliments my ‘lurching with pointing’ attempts with a kind of ‘hobbit’ dancing. He likes to dance alone, and can generally be found wheeling around the corners of the dance floor, slightly hunched over like someone’s just punched him in the stomach complete with low moaning (I think that’s him singing though). KInd of like a hunch-backed, dwarf sized Morrissey.

Imagine our shared joy when it dawned on us that we were going to have to perform for our wedding guests during the torturous ‘first dance’. What to do? The hobbit with wheeling? The lurch with pointing? Bit of air guitar? Ah, a story for another day.

If you liked that, you might like this ...

• Housekeeping
• Aging (Dis)gracefully
• AWOL
• 30 Secrets in 30 days…everyone’s at it now!
• My Ten Treasures…Treasure 1…My Chanel party shoes