I am properly weird this week. Two extremes:
Yesterday I went into H&M and failed to find the Menswear department. Everything else had a sign, but Menswear? Nope. It was probably upstairs, but there was a big Womenswear sign pointing in that direction, and the assistants seemed to be watching, and I felt conspicuous and silly, so left.
Then this evening I went to my sixth and final week of Ceroc dancing. It works on a six-week loop, so I knew that by the end of today I’d have learnt all the beginners’ steps. I’ve been determined to complete the six weeks, but by today my enthusiasm was waning. I can’t continue the classes beyond this week, plus it’s not like I know anyone else who can dance ceroc anyway. Learning had been fun, but it couldn’t go anywhere. I still wanted to complete my goal, but I figured I’d leave after the initial lessons. I hadn’t been practicing enough to hold my own during the freestyle practice sessions, and was fed up of sitting at the edge feeling like a tit.
Except I stayed the entire evening – which I’ve never done before – and danced with half the women in the room. Including really good people – I even asked Teacher Lady. I have no idea how this happened. Well, it was at least partly to do with a very nice lady called Karen telling me off and dragging me onto the dancefloor. But I hung about after that, inexplicably full of confidence, and had a great time. This is as far from H&M Andrew as you can get.
I’m worried about social awkwardness this weekend, and now I have no idea what to expect. I feel like S4 West Wing staffers, wondering which President Bartlet is going to turn up at the debate.
Ho hum. Like I said: properly weird.