#18 - There's nothing left for me to do...but dance?

In the past few months I've been to see Chas 'n' Dave and Status Quo; I've been laughed at as I try to use chopsticks; I've nearly drowned countless times and I was there to see Wolves get relegated to League One. But last night I endured perhaps one indignity too far...I tried to learn to dance.

Yes - that's right - coming in at number 18 on my list of things to do before I'm 30, take a dance class. And yes, it was as excruciating as it sounds.

You see, rhythm and co-ordination isn't something I've been naturally blessed with - I think I've finally come to terms with that.

Yep - that's me. Must have been 'Summer of 69'. 

It's been an evolutionary process. As a young teen I have fond memories of standing against the back wall for hours at a time at Springdale Church discos. As the girls rocked out the latest dance craze (The Macarena and Tragedy by Steps was the in-thing back in my day) the lads would sullenly stand at the back, bottle of cola-flavoured Panda pop in hand, counting down to the final ten minutes of the night when 'PJ the DJ' would put on a few slow dances (the erection section if you will). That was when we'd all make our moves and hope R Kelly's 'I Believe I Can Fly' would last forever.

But it was quite clear, even back then, that dancing was quite clearly never my thing. As I've got older the 'stand at the back' theme has continued - I've taken on what I call 'the Alton Towers role' - looking after everyone else's personal belongings whilst they go and have fun. And although the Panda pop has evolved into a bottle of Beck's, in my head, being able to sing the lyrics to Summer of '69 and Dire Straits' Walk of Life compensates for the fact that I've developed 'dad dancing' without ever actually having conceived.

Here's an artist impression of how you'd
think a salsa class would be...it really wasn't

Well, last night was my chance to put that right. Here's one tip for you though - don't go to a city centre bar when the local football team are playing at home...you feel a bit of burk when you push through a group of tanked up Wolves fans at the bar and ask 'is this where they hold the salsa class?'

Ok - I want you to think about salsa dancing...keep thinking...ok. It was nothing like any of those things. If you're like me you're thinking words like heat, elegance, rhythm, exotic. It was neither of these things. In fairness it was the Cuban Exchange bar in Wolverhampton - I'm not sure what I was expecting. The ratios weren't quite what I expected either. Me, one couple, and two other guys. Those numbers make it a tad tricky to decide who should lead for starters.

Anyway - we were put through our 'mambo paces'. 1,2,3 - 5,6,7 (I have no idea why they've left out 4?). This went on...and on...and on. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to count and move your feet at the same time. Well, I found it difficult and now have a new found respect for Bez.

 

There was indeed a murder on the dancefloor last night. My dignity and self esteem were pronounced dead on arrival. If last night was an episode of Stars in Their Eyes I would have been saying; "Tonight Matthew, I'm going to be...extremely uncomfortable, uncoordinated and counting down the seconds until this hellish experience ends". If only there'd been the sliding doors and smoke machine - I could have run away. 

The annoying thing is - if by some miracle I actually became good at dancing, it would be quite cool. The only problem is, I'm not sure I can put myself through the indignity of 1,2,3 - 5,6,7 'turn the ladies' (when of course there weren't any) again.

But whether I go again or not - I've done it. I've stepped outside my comfort zone and done something I'd normally run a mile to avoid. You can't say I'm not trying new things.

There were so many dance-related songs I could choose as an outro - Murder on the Dancefloor, Dancing Queen, Save the Last Dance For Me etc but in the end I opted for this lesser known 1974 UK number 4 hit from Leo Sayer - for no other reason than he looks really weird in this video...

Michael Ball, Sonia and an update on #22 on the list

So, in the midst of a crumbling European economy and the alarming rise of UKIP on the British political scene, tonight, all that is good and bad about Europe will be showcased for the entire continent (and Israel apparently?) to see - Eurovision.



'My Lovely Horse'
Father Ted and Dougal's 'Song for Europe'


Eurovision is, quite frankly, dreadful. But it's the tacky, camp extravaganza which makes it compulsive viewing. Well, I say compulsive viewing, I've never been bothered with the music - I just love watching the voting - it must be the politico in me.

Of course we Brits don't take it seriously. Terry Wogan's fittingly sarcastic commentary was often the highlight of what would normally be a dull, drawn-out affair with 20+ European languages saying "Ello Shtockholm from (insert random European city name) great show zish evening". Unfortunately the lag delay on the satellite system means it's normally lost in translation anyway.

But I have a soft spot for Eurovision. My earliest - and quite frankly, my fondest memory of Eurovision was staying at my nan and grandad's bungalow in Coven. It was 1992. I remember it was 1992 because of the wonders of Google and YouTube. It was the year I first heard Michael Ball. 'One Step Out of Time' was the UK's entry - and we stayed up all night (ok, until 10pm but I was 7 years old so it seemed really late). We watched the voting - I think we came second. It was my second experience of our cultural ability to embrace an heroic defeat - I was still recovering from the emotional trauma of Italia '90 and watching England lose on penalties to the Germans. But this time it was the Irish who pipped us to the post (and which inspired a very funny episode of Father Ted).

I then vaguely remember Sonia. She was 1993 - catchy song but of course it wasn't until Katrina & The Waves romped home to victory in 1997 that I saw UK glory in Europe. I'm still waiting for us to recapture those glorious heights.

Screeching 80's Welsh rocker Bonnie Tyler is the UK's entry this year. The song's not too bad - but we won't remember it in a few months. Inevitably we'll have the discussions tomorrow - as we do every year:

• "It's a fix"
• "the Eastern Europeans and Scandinavians always vote for each other"
• "We always get points off Malta" 

My personal favourite - "We didn't want to win anyway - it would cost too much to host next year".

There's an element of truth in all of these statements but the truth is the UK has produced a lot of dross since 1997. Jessica Garlick, Scooch, Engelbert Humperdink - and my personal favourite, because it's so bad - Daz Sampson.

For once, just for once, I'd really like us to have a decent song. Bring back Michael Ball, Sonia and Cheryl Baker - that's what I say. They couldn't do any worse...could they?

In any case, I shalln't be in Stockholm this evening so I can't class it as one of my 10 music/comedy gigs that I need to go to before I'm 30. But I am making progress on #22 on my list.

Since February I've seen The Darkness, Status Quo and Chas 'N' Dave. It's only when I write this down do I appreciate how bad that sounds. But hey - I enjoyed them, don't judge me. Blondie at Cannock Chase is next - I'm still on the look out for Akon to tour.

Good luck tonight Bonnie - we're all behind you - and if you lose, it's not your fault; it's all political and we don't want to win anyway, it'll cost too much to host it next year...

Let me leave with you this - take it away Daz...

2 widths, a high-five from Clive and #22 updated

2 widths, a high-five from Clive and #22 updated

It's been two weeks since I last went swimming. The first Sunday I overslept and last Sunday I was away in Munich.

So this morning was my first session back. Last time out I'd had a pretty good session - but two weeks later and with no practice in between, I approached this morning with an element of trepidation. I'd need not have done though. Front crawl is definitely the style for me. The buoyancy belt was back on - but not for long. Fortunately I seemed to pick up exactly where I'd left off two weeks ago. Yes, I was still using a float and yes, breathing whilst moving my arms and legs all at the same time remains problematic...but I think I'm getting there now.

By the end of the half hour session the float had gone and I was actually swimming, unaided for the first time. I even managed to do something which I'd never mastered at school...one single width! I'd got my red stripe for my trunks at school 'for trying hard' but this time I actually did it. And there was no stopping me there...I swam back too!
This gargantuan achievement was greeted by Clive with a high-five...yes!


My reluctance to put my head under water is still causing a problem


Ok - it's not the greatest achievement known to man, but it's a big step forward for me. It shows I can do it - it's just about practice now. So, time to get in the pool more often. That in itself fills me with dread though. The last time I went to a public swimming session (at university) some woman shouted at me because I was in her way. In fairness I was, but I was doing a bloomin' good drowning impression at the same time! I now know how competitive and protective of their lanes these swimming people can be. I hope I don't encounter the same problem again because last time it really did put me off.

I still can't really put my head under water properly...it just feels horrible. But I'm hoping this comes with practice and confidence. Well, I guess it's over to me now. If I practice more I may just be able to get this nailed before I'm 30...

#22 Update

So, number 22 on my list was to got to at least 10 music or comedy gigs before I'm 30.

Well, we're making progress on that front. This week I'm going to two gigs in as many days. Firstly, I'm going to see The Darkness at the Wolverhampton Civic. I've seen The Darkness before, they were supporting Robbie Williams at Knebworth in 2003. So, ten years on I'm off to see them again. One thing is guaranteed...it will be loud!

The following night I'm back at the civic and will no doubt be surrounded by swathes of stone washed denim on ageing rockers as me, Ian, Alex and my Dad take in the legends that are Status Quo.

I shall spend the following few weeks recovering from tinnitus I suspect.

I'm taking a blogging sabattical for a few weeks now but hope to be back soon with some updates on my list of 30 Things To Do Before I'm 30. In the meantime, I'll leave you with this...