Our Dance Class held their end of summer dance at the weekend. It was very good – well attended with plenty of fun and laughter. The novelty dances dreamed up by the leaders had everyone in stitches. However, going into church on Sunday morning, (after a very late night) I was heard to mutter – I am never, ever going to do a Conga again. This was as a result of dancing our way round the world, with the type of dance fitting the appropriate music of the country. This particular piece was made all the more frenetic by the need to rush to a table in the middle of the hall holding items of cultural significance……… maracas, garlands of paper flowers, castanets, fezes, glittery pom poms and much more.
The highlight of the dancing year was celebrated by the awards ceremony. HBTW was given a trophy for the Most Improved dancer in the past year. And it wasn’t teddy who got the dancing star medal – that was myself. At one point whilst we were dancing our way round the floor, I found myself thinking how lucky we are to live in a village where such events are still part of the culture. Mind you, that was before the conga!