August 4 2013 Sunday Woke up late some where near noon. The last two days or more are a blur (as usual) which I forgot to write down when they happened thereby causing posterity’s loss. Trying to pierce the fog of forgetfulness: Was dancing and turned to see 3 teenage girls dancing behind me, I was so surprised that I gasped and this scared the timid creatures into a running retreat to their group some 150 metres away.
A man whom I had seen some days ago who at the time was dressed in cut of jeans and carried a lager can and cigarette in the same hand, this day came running down to me and bounced around saying something about ‘bopping’ or something that I did not catch. I took off the headphones and asked if he wanted to listen, he did and he did and then began dancing to the music. I asked him if he had seen me before, “Oh,yeah, I LOVE it,” I passed the phones to a boy I assumed to be his son, he said something which may have been good or bad, we parted friends.
Down at shore road the hotel terrace was packed and the beach busy and I spent some time putting on a show. As I left, the music stopped and I walked back to someone who had been holding up his phone in my direction tracking me, and I asked, “Could I see it?”
“See what?”
“You have video of me.”
“No, mate.”
The woman to his side pointed towards the water and said something which I assumed to be the object of the video that they didn’t take.
“Oh, sorry to have bothered you,” I said as I left.
(Of course I may be mistaken at thinking that he had been holding his phone camera in my direction and turning to keep me in the frame as I progressed on the beach.) Oh, some day some of the small children said, “See you tomorrow,” indicating that they are part of a regular band of followers, and one of their number told me, “You’re awesome.” (Children are easily impressed I fear.)
looked at videos of Michael Jackson and compared his 30 year ago dance and singing of ‘Billie Jean’ with a maybe 10 year ago concert version. The more recent dance was faster and more complicated, many steps were the same but speeded up and smoothed out – what 20 years of repetition probably produces. Also saw that choreography in one of his concerts for one song was identical to what he and troupe had done in video of another song. I don’t want to copy him and some of his moves are so practiced and so incredibly fast that I regard it as impossible. Oh, yes, his moonwalk also improved dramatically over the 20 years.Practice is everything. Also watched some clips from west side story. Walked home at about 8 and dropping stuff off I headed for the beach, what choice did I have after seeing so much temptation? Hardly anyone there, the sun had set, and the tide just going out. Danced for a while and some teenage boy appeared next to me doing one of those daft semi-dance moves which I think is called ‘the walking man’. He went away fairly soon. A family was having a barbeque by the sea, one of them took a photo of me, but when I waved I got that ‘You don’t exist’ lack of response. Back at the Chine I was almost alone and had to let the spirit take me. Suddenly a young man was within a metre of me dancing, imitating me and as I continued I noted that he was doing a good job of it. I stopped, removed the phones and asked, “Do you dance a lot?”
“Yes, I teach street dance style.”
We chatted for a while. He is French “Call me Frenchie,” 27, lived here for 8 years, is currently on holiday, has a facebook page called “Frenchie Funk” he has danced ‘since I was YOUNG’ which I now realise why people used to laugh when I said such things in my twenties. He asked me what work I do, I said I am 60 and retired. “60? I don’t believe it, you are so fit.” (OKAY! He’s 27 and therefore doesn’t understand ages over 35, but you have to understand that it was dusk and he couldn’t see how grizzly I am.) I told him that I had videos on line and I would be very interested in his opinion of them. I gave him my new flyer which has a still from one of the videos and the instruction to search on google or youtube for S B Chdancer He told me to keep the love or some expression that I assume is current. And I returned to my dancing with an extra effort. When I was sufficiently puffed out I sat for a while at a bench in the gloom of dusk next to the only other persons near, a family of 4 who had been swimming, and then I went to the bar for final exercises. As I walked away heading home one of the boys from that family approached, I said hello and he asked, “Are you a professional?”
Noting that perhaps he wondered if I were a doctor or lawyer, perhaps believing it worth noting my name in order to report me to my professional body, I replied, “No,” and then added, “it is just a pastime.” He told me that I was a very good dancer. His brother nodded in agreement. His mother walked towards us and I called out, “I am being complimented.”
She said, “You are a wonderfully good dancer.”
“Oh, even better,” I replied adding, “I’ll write that one down.”
“You are obviously a professional dancer,” she stated as if it were, well, obvious and indisputable.
“No, it is just a pastime, perhaps a passion.”
“Oh, I assumed that you had a ballet background as you are so agile.”
(Now this can be explained, I do these bar exercises and for anyone who hasn’t done them for real in ballet classes, the exercise probably look like the real thing and are based on ballet exercises, but I doubt that I would fool anyone who knew what they were talking about.)
“I can do it, because I do it. It is just practice.”
“I would love to be able to dance like you.”
Her husband approached, “You do your best.”
“Yes,” she responded.
I asked if she has to drag him on to the dance floor. They both affirmed this. I then described how at discos I have seen lots of young women who want to dance and their boyfriends just stand and refuse. If only they knew how to dance they could have their pick. The couple both agreed. I then said, I could have my pick if I were 40 years younger. At this point the wife did something which pleased me. She glanced at my chest surepticiously and said, “You’re not doing so bad.” There is something nice about a possibly 40 year old attractive wife eyeing me up and complimenting me that gave a nice end to the day. I want to see myself dance. I am curious what it is that these people are seeing.


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