Dance

I remember seeing a film about the coming of the waltz. There was a lot of concern about its decadence and vulgarity. So things were looking up when the head teacher announced that the fourth year would be getting dance lessons and there would be a Christmas dance with the fourth year of the girls school.

Dance is not just a convenient way to meet people but has many social conventions, or so the Art teacher said. The art teacher was charged with teaching the fourth year boys how to dance. It was then that I had my doubts as the art teacher, Mr. Williams, also taught religious studies. I decided to take things into my own hands.

I had passed the Dana School of dancing many times, but never saw anyone go in or come out. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I could hear music so knocked again very loud. There was still no answer. I opened the door and walked in. A bell rang activated by the opening of the door. The room looked like a changing room, a long bench down one side with pegs above. At the end was a peg in use, the clothes were male. Maybe I wasn’t that odd after all. At the end of the room was a double half glass door, from where the music was coming. I opened them. The room beyond was a large wooden dance area. Two people were dancing, a generously built woman and John Worthington. They finished their routine before she came over to talk to me. Every evening they held a group dance session, seniors, general dance and youth nights. This was complimented by private dance lessons. I took the details and the price list to think it over.

Next day I found John in the playground and asked about the dancing. Allegedly it was better than rugby, and he should know he was our scrum half. What was good enough for a scrum half must be good enough for a Prop forward. I was still not quite convinced about the dance school after all it did clash with Judo nights. One lesson at school convinced me that relying on the Mr. Williams was not an option.

According to Williams, dance has a social purpose. What, he never said. People go to dances to dance. When you ask some one to dance, it is convention to accept. Refusal is considered bad mannered. A young man will not get a refusal to dance. There is no reason why a man should not ask a woman to dance, no harm can come from it. The next thing we had to do was select which was to be the male and female partner, and watch the steps he demonstrated. The first dance he taught was the Gay Gordon. At the end of the lesson I asked Williams what dances he would be teaching. He was going to teach the important and useful dances, these included the Gay Gordon, the military two step, the Saint Bernard’s waltz. He expected us to pick up the hokey cokey and the conga in our own time. It was obvious I would need help.

As if preordained Judo venue and nights were changed to Tuesday and Thursday. Rugby training was now Monday nights. This left Wednesday and Friday for dancing lessons. I enrolled at the Dana School of dancing.

The senior-dancing tutor was Mrs Carpenter. She was the only dancing tutor, thus had to dance male and female parts.

The first dance of choice was the waltz, straight in at the decadent deep end. Her generous proportions surrounded me, I could see why it caused so much anguish and pleasure. I completed the standard ten introductory lessons, which gave me the basic steps of most modern ballroom dances. It was suggested I attended the Friday night general youth dancing for those 16 and under. I was a bit nervous about exposing my lack of skill so checked if John Worthington would be there. To my relief he said he would, never miss a Friday night, it was well worth going to. I was the sixth boy; there were four times as many girls. These were my kind of statistics. The bonus was Cherida Crombie, a fourteen year old Sophia Loren look-a-like with a west midland accent. I asked her to dance, the waltz. It was beyond my wildest expectation, I was so engrossed, decadently, that I lost control of the feet. She expressed her misgivings about my clumsiness not too quietly and in a language I thought to be the domain of the Rugby field. She made sure we never danced together again. There were others luckily.

I had enrolled for more lessons and was well on the way to a bronze certificate. By the time of the school dance I was ready for anything.

I expected subdued lighting, a rotating mirror ball, even the odd balloon, but this was the school dance in the gym. Wall bars, bright lights, and nowhere to sit. The decadence police complete with cane patrolled to ensure that you could safely pass the encyclopedic Britannica between partners.

The first dance was the Gay Gordon. On completion the Domestic science teacher stormed the stage with her collection of records and took control. From then on all dances were the twist, a new dance she demonstrated from the stage. If she could twist any one could. I saw what she meant, she was an ample woman, and when she moved large amounts of flesh moved in differing directions. It wouldn’t be allowed today, health and safety issue.

We danced in full light miles apart doing our own thing to pop music. I wondered why I had to ask the girl to dance we couldn’t talk or touch. Eventually it was announced the next dance would be the last. That was bound to be the waltz, I selected my partner and joined the rest of the dancers in the, conga.

Over the next few years all the dance halls disappeared. Today the only time anyone dances are at discos in Costa del cockney on holiday. Some weddings and special occasion events hold discos but here line-dancing rules, they are a bit like the minuet on speed.

The days of Ballroom dancing have sadly gone. So has holding a partner in your arms, close enough to smell the perfume. Moving in unison in time with the music. Whispering gently into your partner’s ear, mind my toes you clod hopping idiot.