21 Sept Saturday

Didn’t beach dance. Wondered until quite late whether I would go to the night dance at the pier. Set-off for it at 9.30. Oddly, I felt a little nervous. Started the dancing as usual.   A man of about 30 came over to me, “It’s the dancing man. I am pleased to meet you my name is… (sorry I have forgotten it already). I have video of you on my mobile. We know you as ‘the dancing man'”

I replied that he should know me as ‘The Beachdancer’, which he noted. “My mate at work tells me that he’s been trying to do some of your moves.” I chuckled at this. He then introduced me to his girlfriend. I explained that I am planning beach events where everyone can dance. They seemed interested and she asked me if I am on facebook or anything. I gave her a flyer.

I moved to dance on the raised area to see and be seen. (I am such a show-off).

Three exquisite females came to dance with me, they reminded me of kittens being so very young. I asked one of them how old she was: seventeen.

Why do three seventeen-year-olds come up on a stage to dance with an old man?

Oh, I forgot something. They evening was much milder than I expected and my sport shirt was getting sweaty so, like I do on the beach, I took it off and danced bare chested after the first 20 minutes or so.

So, let me re-state the question, why do three seventeen-year-olds come up to dance with a bare chested old man?

Perhaps they were unusual girls? Well, maybe but after they went back into the crowd another three arrived to dance with me, these looked a bit older, I would guess they may have been as old as 20. When they went back into the crowd the first 3 returned, and this alternation continued for a while, but I spent most of the final hour with the older ones (older, I say).

While dancing on my own a woman of perhaps 30 (too old for me obviously) came over with two glasses in her hands, one of which she pressed against my chest as if offering it to me. I asked, “What’s this?” She replied, “I am toasting you.” (I thought she was offering the drink to me, which is why I had asked what it was.) She then continued, “You are a dancing machine, and I am liking it a lot.” This seems to me some kind of Facebook language. She soon departed, so I don’t know what ‘liking it a lot’ implies. Some woman in red who appeared to be with a husband came over to dance with me while he took video. Various young men came over to do a few (drunken) steps near me, or to hold my hand up in the air, or to ‘high five’ or what many wanted to do, touch clenched fists with me; reminds me of boxers at the start of a fight.

If you remember I am stripped to the waist; its important, I am not raising this in a gratuitous manner here.. Four young men came over to pose with me, they had all taken off their shirts and then there were photos. Not ones I want on my facebook page. (Later these photos were on the big screen behind the DJ, interspersed with photos of ‘my’ 20-year-olds girls kissing each other.)

Always surprised at the large number of people who know the words to songs, the number of songs they know that I have never heard before, and most surprised by the affection for old songs like Bohemian Rhapsody or the Jackson Five (introduced as ‘Michael Jackson’).

The dancing started at 10.30 and finished at 2.00 and my ankle is giving me jip now.

At the end I went to the lavatories to wipe some of the sweat off. I was drenched. There were several men in there. One asked me if I had had a good night. I said that I always did. (Odd that phrase just popped out without thought. Is it true?) He asked how much I had drunk. I said that I don’t drink. He said that when he had looked at me he thought I had not and that he wished he could have as much fun as I do without drinking. “It takes me a drink or two,” he explained. Another man, at a urinal, called out, “Do you go running?” I am not in the habit of being interviewed in lavatories and wasn’t sure he was speaking to me so I ignored it.

I went out and did my end of dance stretch and bend exercises which, naturally, drew some attention. Some guy did the hand holding thing again. (What ever happened to British reserve? I was hugged by several guys – not all of them drunk) (and where are the women who hug?)

Walking through the gardens one of the young men who hand ‘fist-touched’ me came over, put his arm around my sholder and said in fluent ‘drunk’ “Ish qu fuggle drom” To which I replied, “What?” This appeared to be an acceptable response, because I could hear a note of emotion when he added, “Gash ruglle slum?” Fortunately, he spotted some friends and moved almost in their direction.

On the walk home from about 2.15 to 3 am I was surprised at the number of young persons waiting in line to get into clubs.

There was one guy sitting on a low wall staring at a pile of vomit. I do not know if he sat there specially to stare at pre-existing vomit.

Back home at 3.00, hungry so I had breakfast. Couldn’t get to sleep until about 4, realised that I had left my hat at the dance, fell asleep and then woke up at 6.30 so had breakfast again. Just 2.5 hours sleep. That’s not good. Went shopping.

My ankle hurts and I expect to fall asleep at any moment.


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