The Reel Club

I have found a new pastime, well maybe not so new but resurrected.

We have joined the Reel Club for weekly dance practices.
Of a Thursday evening we can be found along with maybe a maximum of ten willing, but not necessarily able participants, jigging to Scottish reels.

I am not maligning my compadres I include myself in this bunch of novices. Truth be told I am the one who causes the most uproar and confusion.

It is almost the quintessence of a British evening activity in the Village Hall with the ocassional star appearence of the Vicar and his wife. Yet the city location and mixture of nationalities makes it anything but. I do believe I am the only one who can claim to have been born on the cold, but bonny banks of Escosia!


We all turn up in the chill of the winter evening and leave looking and feeling as if we have done a full workout at the gym. I run more than most as I usually have to do several laps to the ladies room for fear I will have an accident. I just can't stop myself from laughing.


We normally only manage two dances before we all lurch towards the back of the room to share beverages and snacks. Yes, the vicar allows alcohol but I am usually on water. Alcohol, giddy spins and laughter would only add to the liklihood of me having a "little accident".


Why do I collapse in a paroxym of laughter so frequently? Often times it's the look of panic on a dancers face when they have lost their partner and wander in circles trying to find them and then the look of confusion as someone grabs and hurls them across the room to the correct position. Other times it's the sight of G.C. counting beats and pushing some poor uninitiated local chica into position. Her rhythm is faultless but perhaps better suited to a salsa beat! G.C. is concentrating so hard that the furrows on his brow cause mine to crease too, but in laughter. Occasionally it's just me me losing concentration, forgetting the next move thereby throwing everyone into confusion. Leaving the floor to use the bathroom leaves G.C. partner less and then things fall apart...

It has to be the best value for money, the simplest of pleasures and a lot of fun. One hopes by the time the November St. Andrew's Ball comes around I may be able to dance without dashing to the loo crossed legged.