Vaguely Come Dancing

The Friday night before we Marched in London (see blog passim.) Vicky and I had an appointment with Anton du Beke and Erin Boag from Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing With the Stars, everywhere else) This was a Christmas prezzie from V to me.

The show was at the quaintly named Dukinfield Town Hall, just outside Manchester. Well, as usual we were in five minds about what to wear. In the end I went for a low cut sparkly top, black trousers (boring!) and uncomfortable high heel. Vicky was much more daring, debuting a short black, zip festooned punky dress and an even more unwearable pair ofheels.

Luck and Satnav, got us fairly near our destination till an overwhelming hunger forced us to visit the nearest Tesco Extra megashop thingy. Tottering and hobbling through the store full of soberly clad shoppers we looked kinda like off duty hookers. In my case well past her peak. By now, Vs shoes were so uncomfortable she toyed with buying an emergency wearable pair right there and then, but in the end just soldiered on. A car park refuelling on cheap sandwiches and pop over, we made our way through the Greater Manchester suburbs to arrive at our town hall venue. As we parked up we saw a couple of car loads of fellow dance fans disembark. My best guess was that they had an average age somewhere mid 70s. Looking at the pair of us, we thought that we may have misjudged outfits somewhat, and could end up standing out like sore thumbs at a hitchhikers convention (not sure that works!!). Still in for a penny in for a Paso Doble  .

When we joined the queue inside our fears were allayed a little. We couldn’t really stick out amongst such an eclectic bunch of people. The Local gentry were there in force. He all tux, chunky gold and Masonic bearing, she all ball gowned, painted grin and orange tan, contrasting with the teenaged dance school girls stood in giggly huddles, all prom dresses, dance pumps and vivid eye shadow. Then, there were the young couples, she in her best going out gear, while he wriggled uncomfortably in a new tie and shiny shoes. Oh and there was me and Vix.

The evening started with the dance floor open to all, although it was clearly not a space for the inexperienced hoofer. There were couples of all size, age and background, but the only status that mattered was their talent for a Tango. Some of the best dancers were the young girls whirling together without need for boys, who before Strictly’ hit the airwaves would surely have scorned ballroom dancing. Thankfully to any attending Health & Safety officer I decided to keep the light of my particular dance talent underneath my huge bushel. The only dance I know the steps to is The Timewarp from the Rocky Horror Show, and to be honest it would have been tricky to make it fit a Waltz.

The lights dimmed for the main event, and to the “duh duh duh duh, duh duh duurrhhh” of the Strictly theme on strode Anton and Erin. He was even more smiley and shorter than I imagined and she was just plain stunning, a figure that dying for would have been scantly enough. To be honest up close it all seemed a little unreal. Like waxworks come to life. At our table on the edge of the dance floor we were in tripping distance of them and we had to suppress that Lemming Syndrome that dared us to stick out a crafty leg. The dancing was an amazing spectacle of whirling  colours and immaculate footwork. Highlight for V was that when Anton was bantering with the audience while Erin was undergoing a second costume change, Vicky ended up in a verbal spar with the Sultan of Suave, the upshot being they seemed to have arranged a dancing night out on Tuesday.

All too soon it was over and we took our cue to queue. A&E had decamped to to an upstairs room where willing punters could have a meet, photograph and autograph. I decided to go barefoot so as not to tower over the petite couple, but mainly because after 20 minutes queuing my feet were killing me. As we were eventually ushered in, I could detect genuine terror in Anton’s eyes. He was a gentlemen though and after a hugs, hellos and a shared quip at Vicky’s expense we posed for pics, although the young aide who was using my camera somewhat struggled with the concept of focus. Vicky cheekily asked if she could have a pic for her phone and since then everyone she has met, has had her mobile thrust under their nose with an image of Anton kissing Vicky. I still maintain he may of been kissing her, but he was thinking of me.

All in all it was a slightly bizarre but fabulous Christmas prezzie outing. Soon back down to earth though as the next morning we were heckling the G20 from the Streets of London. A real compare and contrast couple of days.