Tuesday 27 August 2013 I decided to put a bit of effort into promoting the idea of “Beachdancer Hour” which I have pitched (by email) to Chris at HotRadio. I have also sent short messages to the hotel and restaurants near the beach and some charities and some others whom I have forgotten. See if anyone responds. (The hotel etc probably will because my message sounds like a revenue earner.) Dancing on the beach… A man about my age stood up came over followed by two companions, shook my hand and said, “I so enjoy seeing you. I sincerely look forward to seeing you dance. If you didn’t come I would be disappointed.” What do you say to that? Not the first to say this. I thank him and we chat for a while. He tells me the silly idea that 99.9% of people on the beach feel the same way. The woman tells him that not everyone is like us and then she asks me what I think. I say it sound far too high and I tell them about the ‘blot on the landscape’ lady. “She was joking of course,” the wife tells me and seems shocked when I say, “No, I think it was genuine, people vary.” Husband then told me that a group of youngsters had been following me trying to do what I do. That the boys had given up and that the girls had made fun of them because they couldn’t do it. He pointed out that this made the boys feel “this small”. At that moment I felt sympathy for the little buggers who had probably been making fun of me. A young man perhaps 19 came out of the water and asked me if I would teach him how to dance. I said, “That’s a big task.” Then I asked “Are you serious?” He replied, “Yes.” I spoke to him briefly telling him that he needs to get used to listening to music and moving in time with it. He indicated that he would like to do something right now. I said that it will be difficult because he can’t hear the music but try to step in time with my steps. I kept it incredibly simple and repeatedly told him that he was doing well. After a while he thanked me, shook my hand and left. Was that for real? It is puzzling because teaching someone to dance is a very long slow process. Various kids behind me, sometimes I say hello sometimes I just let them do their thing. Children in front who imitate me, but then freeze when I look in their direction. (I forget that I may look scary to them.) Around sandbanks an incredibly confident boy (reeks of private school to me) used his iphone and questioned me like Jeremy Paxman. I told him about the radio interview. He asked me if I am going to be famous. I said “Probably”. I asked him to inform me when he puts the video on-line. He agreed to tweet me. I wonder if he will. I thought afterwards that I should appoint him as youth co-ordinator for Beachdancer Hour. On the way back a woman of about 60 walked down to talk to me. “I have to ask you why you do this, is it just because you are happy?”
I thought this an odd reversal of what happens. I don’t dance because I am happy, I become happy because I dance. I told her it was just because I enjoy it. “And nothing else?” She told me that Israelies dance on the beach. Farther along the beach two mums and various children were looking at me then at each other. I had a feeling that they wanted to talk so I gave them the opportunity. Turned out that their children had been dancing behind me. We chatted a while, I told them stories. They told me how much they like what I do, that it makes them feel happy. Everyone, so far, whom I have told about ‘Beachdancer Hour’ gushes with praise for the idea. I had the impression that such positive response is unusual; that I expect more voicing of reasons why it would not work. Back at the Chine too tired for anything more than the briefest of encores. Still haven’t found anyone who heard the interview or even has heard of HotRadio. Last night I watched Justin Timberlake doing simple dance moves in his video of some song. Reminded me of the kind of thing that I do. His movements are very brief, theatrical (lots of style, little substance) and rarely difficult. The whole thing is a serious of independent very short movements, each hardly more than 3 seconds long. I have a feeling that there may be some chores that I am supposed to be doing, but where am I to find the time? Oh, one of the small children asked me, “Have you seen our car?”
“Mmm, no, I think I missed that.”
“Its a Ford Fiesta.”
“Ah! Okay.”

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