Saturday, 21 April 2012

Dance, Dance, Wherever You May Be.

It was busy all day with queues to the door. Customer heads poking out like a bemused chorus line who forgot the routine.

"Show me again where they are."

 We partner up and I take the lead.

" Just here at the front. Row G 5 6 7 and 8.

"You take these gift vouchers don't you love?"
"Yes. I knew you'd have vouchers"
" Did you? How's that then?"
" You had that 'voucher' look about you."
" Oh, gerroff we ya"  Laughs her silvery head off. (I love her for that.)
"Any concessions? "  She looks blank. Not wishing to point out the obvious I decide to play it safe. 
" Are you... under 16 for example ?"
" Ducky, I'm nearly 80! I've been coming here for years y' know. I remember when this place used to be called The Empire."

I bet she did too and in her time danced her little pins off, unlike the slow and steady waltz she was treating me to now.

" Here's your change look, just enough for an ice-cream I'd say."
" Maybe twenty years ago" she snorts,but puts it in her purse with a grin all the same enjoying the moment as much as I do. She winks her goodbye and a new partner takes her place at the counter.

Sometimes we don't feel like it. We close our ears to the song, screw up our noses and opt out, sitting on the sidelines with a fruit-based drink instead. We can not be induced or tempted by the most handsome of partners if the rhythm is not right.

Other times we force the dance regardless and wonder why we falter at every step. No matter how intensely we listen we cannot hear the melody.

Better to have stayed home.

We take our dance with us wherever we go. Work hard to develop the choreography. Perfect the routine.

Today the dance floor is crowded and there isn't enough room.

"Can you do me a couple of good'ns in the stalls for tonight?" His face is pushed up against the counter window as if looking for a private viewing.

I breathe in the stench of his odour and decide to dance on my own.

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

Story-telling.

How strange. All these years of writing and only now does the truth of story-telling finally hit me. I've read thousands of stories and thought I knew what went into creating them. Observed the existence of others. Assumed an understanding.

I'm quite good at beginnings. Openings. Entrances - departures too.

But the middle...

The journey...

This I ain't so good at.