That went smoothly. Weird. I expect something to catch fire any moment. I struggled to remove the ninja, but my only real mistake was somehow downloading the latest 300mb AutoPatcher in Polish. Whoops. Once the main programs are up and running I’ll plug in the webcam / card reader and leave the computer running overnight. If it’s still going in the morning I shall perform the happy happy dance of the geek. Napoleon Dynamite has nothing on me.

After the initial Windows setup I installed Kubuntu to a separate partition, and the first thing I did was go into System Settings and configure the monitor and resolution. It asked for a restart, then came back with mangled fonts and a completely broken interface - anything I tried to open crashed immediately, including System Settings. I booted with the ‘recovery’ option and ended up at a prompt, which isn’t much use for novices like me. So that was a short-lived experiment. I’m sure it’s worth persevering with, but if the supposedly most user-friendly Linux distro ever is this persnickety I might wait a few more years.

I had a 400-word writeup published in the Midland Amateur Dance Club magazine this week. Unfortunately copies are only available to members (I’m not one), and it’s not online. So I could be making this up, and nobody would ever know. Having said that, everything I write here could be made up and nobody would ever know. I once held a tarantula.

This Friday I’ll be driving to Torquay for a dancing weekend. I’ve been to a few before, but this is the first to be run over three nights. When I reserved a place six months ago I thought it would be a good intensive weekend, but not so much. Other people at my dance group decided they’d be bored of dancing by the third night, and apparently suggested we do something else instead. So, on Sunday evening we’ll head to another hotel to watch some ‘live entertainment’, and that morning’s teaching session is now a vague possibility rather than a definite feature. I’m increasingly pissed off about this.

It’s rather strange that people want to go on a dancing weekend and not dance much, but obviously they can do what they like. It’s a shame they convinced our teachers everybody feels the same way, though. The weekend cost £155, which, while good value for the standard of hotel, made a serious dent in my already-depleted finances last month. I could do without the apparently pointless extra day. I don’t know why they didn’t scrap the Friday night dance instead, since we’ll have had a four-hour drive already that day. Without any dancing on Sunday it’s more like a mini-holiday than a learning weekend. That would be ok, but isn’t what I’ve been looking forward to.

I suppose it’s really about a difference in how we view the class. I think many of the regulars now think of it as a social evening, and those of us who still see it as primarily a dance class are outnumbered. Oh well, I mustn’t get pessimistic - it’ll probably be a fun time, if a bit of a waste. Sorry to whine, I just feel cheated.

I’m seeing Twelfth Night this evening, after a kind friend donated two tickets this morning. It’s in Russian, with English subtitles. I’m not sure what to expect, but it should be interesting. Although I know the rough plot I’m not very familiar with the play, so hopefully I’ll be able to follow it. The website quotes a review:

Magical, darkness and light, the dualities of good and evil, and the possibilities of transvestism all explored with hummingbird wit and precision…it is the funniest of Twelfth Nights

It’ll be different, at least! I’m skipping my dance class, but it’s no big loss at the moment. We’ve been going over existing steps for a long time, which is useful from a technique standpoint, but isn’t very exciting. I can see that my teacher wants to get everybody up to the same level, but it’s becoming frustrating now. I’m hoping things will pick up after the upcoming dance weekend.

I finally managed to fix my parents’ network this evening. A few days ago I’d replaced their original router, which was starting to play up after 15 months of heavy use, at which point everything went crazy and putting the original router in place didn’t solve the problem. If there is a time in an accountant’s year that you don’t want this to happen, it’s the end of January when all the tax returns are due in. I shored up their six computer network so that it mostly worked, albeit very slowly, and they had to jump through a few hoops to read and send emails for a couple of days. I couldn’t find any kind of software explanation, so resolved to start replacing hardware until it started working again. It turned out that the replacement router was broken on arrival. This was always a possibility, but had seemed unlikely enough that I checked everything else first. A shiny new Netgear is now sitting in its place, and everything (as of this evening, anyway) is going swimmingly. Phew.

Just back from dancing, where the teachers were working on my posture. Good grief. I had to start taking notes in the end, there was so much to remember. I must not lead with my arm. I must keep my ribcage up. I must move forward with the body rather than the feet. I must rise and fall less in the foxtrot. I can make outside steps easier using ‘contrary body movement’, where the left shoulder comes forward with the right foot and vice versa. And this is all walking in a straight line! I’m glad they’re getting more picky with me, but it’s difficult to concentrate on all of it at once. It feels great when I get it right, but that didn’t happen often this evening. Hopefully I’ll get there with practice.

Speaking of dancing¹ here is a Cockatoo named Macky doing the Makarena:

and speaking of things…that…are…er…something to do with the sky²…I like this picture of Comet McNaught too:

Time for bed, I think.

1. bow to my segue awesomeness [↩]
2. lost it [↩]

Last night I saw Darren Bennett and Lilia Kopylova demonstrate at a social dance. As well as both having won series of Strictly Come Dancing, they’re currently British Latin Dance Champions and are pretty much the best of the best in UK terms. I’ve decided I don’t like them much: they’re both too attractive, pleasant (my dance teachers know them and say they’re lovely) and good at what they do. It’s just not fair

Despite arriving early the tables around the dancefloor were all taken, so we took seats upstairs. At first this was disappointing, but it turned out to be a great position.

There was an hour and a half of social dancing before the demonstration. Lynsey and I went downstairs for the jive, and in the middle of the routine I felt my foot collide with someone’s calf and slide down to slam into their toe. The lady limped off the floor and was in some pain for five minutes, but was very gracious when I apologised - these things just happen sometimes, neither of us had actually make a mistake. I still felt terrible about it, though - I’ve never hurt anybody that much before! After that I tried a waltz, foxtrot and cha-cha, all of which were mini adventures due to the sheer number of people on the floor.

The demonstration started, and most people headed downstairs. Our vantage point above the dancefloor, however, provided a superb view and was excellent for taking photographs without background distractions. Darren and Lilia danced all five Latin dances - the samba, cha-cha, rumba, paso doble and jive - and were unsurprisingly excellent throughout. Lilia changed between each dance, during which time Darren took the microphone and kept everybody entertained. They’re married, and he spent plenty of time winding her up - she got her own back by taking the microphone and telling stories of people recognising her but not him.

I took a whole bunch of pictures, and was very happy with some of the results:

(shame about that left hand, mind). This is definitely my favourite shot:

How on Earth does she do that?

My autofocus struggled slightly, so in some of the pictures I’m hoping the pose makes up for the technical quality. I wish this had been sharp, for example:

Afterwards they spent a long time signing autographs and posing for pictures, so Lynsey took the opportunity - unfortunately I’d forgotten to change back to my wide-angle beforehand, so couldn’t fit Lilia in. At one point afterwards they both looked up and directly at me; it was rather surreal to have the full attention of two people I’d only ever seen on television - I had to quickly think of something to say!

There was another hour or so of blessedly injury-free dances before it finished. I definitely need to work on my floorcraft as I found navigating the busy floor very difficult, and crashed into people on a number of occasions. All good fun, though. Apparently they hold such dances every few months, although not always with such famous couples demonstrating.

There were a couple of technical points I wanted to mention about the photography:

Continue reading ‘Social dance with Darren & Lilia’

Apologies for the lack of blogging - I’m having a busy weekend. I had a wonderful day yesterday, which included seeing a great performance of Richard III in the company of somebody truly lovely, and this evening I’m off to see Darren and Lilia demonstrating at a social dance in Malvern. I’ve seen them twice before - at a social dance and Strictly - so we’re practically friends now

But enough of politics and religion. On to the important stuff. We all know the Eurovision Song Contest is a highlight of any year, being a sublime mix of camp, sarcastic commentary and ancient nationalistic grudges. What could possibly improve this?

A spin-off Eurovision Dance Contest!

This new international production consists of a ballroom, latin and freestyle dance competition between mixed couples.

We should so get Morrissey to enter. It’ll apparently be broadcast by the BBC on 1st September. Via Strictly Come Blogging.

Our dance class normally consists of an hour’s teaching followed by an hour’s practice during which we can request whatever dances we like. Tonight somebody brought along a country cd and taught everybody a simple line dance. It was actually surprisingly good fun, but for the last two hours I have had ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ going around my head. And. It. Won’t. Stop.

We went to an Argentine Tango class on Monday, along with the rest of the country. I assume it’s a new year thing. Despite the lack of space we learnt a tiny routine to which we’ll add steps each week. To be honest I had it easy - so far the men’s steps have been very easy while the women spin cleverly. While it does get harder, the man’s job is more to look butch. I don’t think the word ‘butch’ has ever been used within an hour’s conversation of me, but I’ll give it a go. There was one surprise: in most ballroom dances it’s important to use heel leads - every step forward has to go from heel to toe - and this isn’t one of my strong points. Happily this isn’t a problem in the Argentine Tango as they’re not used; it’s all about sliding around smoothly.

Hmmm, I appear to have just bought ‘Achy Breaky Heart’ from iTunes, on the basis that Lynsey wasn’t there this evening but would probably like to hear it. And furthermore I have listened to it. There is no hope for me. Stop reading while you can.

I’d never been to a surprise party until recently, but that’s two in the last few weeks. My dance teachers set one up for their son’s 21st birthday and invited all of their students. This seemed a little odd - we’ve never actually met the guy - but we were happy to go along and on Thursday evening arrived at our usual dance hall to find it packed with people and a mobile disco¹. I wasn’t expecting it to be quite so large an event.

I always used to hate that kind of party. I’d no idea how to deal with drunk people, I certainly didn’t have enough confidence to dance, and there would always be a couple of loud, deeply unpleasant guys that (it seemed like) all the girls nevertheless fawned over. I’d end up sitting in a corner feeling inferior. I hadn’t been to such a party for years, and I admit that for about ten minutes on Thursday the old associations came back and I wanted to do was leave. Happily, that faded - yay for being older. I can’t claim to have relaxed completely, but the feeling of being out of place decreased to a gentle simmer.

The birthday boy arrived to cheers and seemed rather bemused by it all. After a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ the disco started up again, playing medleys from the ’70s and, oddly, ’80s. Most guests were in their early 20’s or parents in their late 40’s, and you’d think few were listening to music in the ’80s. Lynsey tells me that the ’80s nights at her university were the most popular, though, so apparently my theory has a flaw somewhere. Small slips of paper were provided for requests, and after a few not-so-subtle hints I handed in one for the Macarena. It turns out I’m one of the few people in the world who doesn’t know the Macarena moves off by heart. I should remedy that.

For a group who’ve been learning to dance for two years, there was a lot of two-step shuffling going on It was interesting that our group had far fewer inhibitions over stepping onto the dancefloor than the birthday boy and his friends, although it didn’t take them long. I was dragged up at one point but only lasted a song. I like dancing when I’ve actually something to do, but shuffling about just makes me feel silly - I’ll have to work at getting over that one. I spent a while sitting at the edge of the dancefloor feeling like a bit of a tit, but eventually got up for a cha-cha and a jive when the appropriate rhythms were played, and had a good time.

There’s a horrible, horrible line in ‘Children of Men’ when Julianne Moore says something like: “The ringing in your ears is the sound of cells dying. You’ll never hear that frequency again.” It’s impossible not to think of this when leaving a loud party, especially when by the end I was noticing my ears distorting the sound slightly at the higher volume levels. Sorry to sound terribly old! It was an interesting evening, and as far as I could tell most people enjoyed themselves. I probably didn’t do as well as I’d have liked, but didn’t have a bad time overall. I think the birthday boy had fun, which is the important thing.

1. do people still say ‘disco’? [↩]

I tend to go off celebrities who cheat on their partners. It’s probably unfair, especially in the case of tabloid revelations, but it’s an instinctive thing. Nevertheless, it has to be said that goddamn Mark Ramprakash can dance:

Of course, it helps that Karen is superb - it’s her kick at ‘now I’ve got you in my sights’ that does it for me. Just sensational. Matt’s good, but if Mark pulls off something like this in Saturday’s final he’ll be in a whole other league.

Edit: first sentence changed after half an hour’s reflection.

I went to my dance teachers’ Christmas Ball this evening, and had a great time apart from one unfortunate worry. There was a demonstration couple that I’d seen before, when the 14-year-old girl’s performance inspired a post on uncontrollable thoughts. She and her partner will be known as Jailbait (now 15, apparently) and Boy for the rest of this post. They were excellent dancers, but last time I became uncomfortable when she stood half a metre away from me in a dress that barely covered her very much grown-up figure, swaying and shimmying in a rather adult way. It just wasn’t fun. This time, knowing they’d be performing, I made sure to sit away from the edge of the dancefloor to avoid the situation happening again. Hah.

Again they were excellent, but during their rumba routine she came out of a turn, locked eyes with me, held my gaze for a couple of seconds then gave a very slow, sultry wink. Obviously this was part of the routine and I just happened to be in her eyeline, and the friends I was with thought this was terribly funny. As did I: the extra distance made me far more comfortable with the whole thing, and the irony was entertaining¹. We laughed about it and carried on dancing for the rest of the evening. Then, as we were leaving, a few people were chatting to Jailbait and Boy and I for some reason remarked “thanks for the wink, it made my day.” I obviously meant it as a friendly compliment of their dancing and wasn’t actually serious, but as I drove home I realised there are at minimum 15,000 ways in which it could be misinterpreted. It wasn’t meant to be creepy. I don’t think I said it in a weird manner and am fairly sure she reacted with a smile, but I’ve overthought it and can’t remember properly now. Argh.

This is hopefully just late-night paranoia and will seem ok tomorrow, but it’s one of those moments I really wish I could take back.

1. it was also the first time anybody’s ever winked sexily at me for any reason at all, so was a new experience [↩]

We finished the seven week American Smooth course this evening, and it was definitely worth the 45-minute drive over to Worcester. The end result is a ballroom-spanning routine made up of four separate ‘groups’, each of which could individually be inserted into a standard waltz at opportune moments. If the floor isn’t too crowded, we *might* try it out at the Christmas Ball this Saturday. I don’t want to get in the way of regular waltzers, though, so we’d have to pick our moment.

It was also very useful to see a different approach towards basic stance and posture. Our teachers do a good job, but another perspective always helps. For example, the Smooth teacher emphasised that heel leads are very important in the ballroom dances, which we didn’t know as our regular class always concentrates on the movements of the steps rather than how to step itself.

I was hoping the course might end with a lift, but they must be leaving them to the ‘improvers’ Smooth class in the new year, which unfortunately is on the same night as our regular dance class. However, Monday nights will change to the beginners Argentine Tango! Quite tempted by that. At professional level, it looks like this:

Oh, my.

I quite like Take That’s new single, and was impressed by a couple of the album tracks played on the radio last week. Sorry, 12-year-old self.

At 12 I was already into PC games, and would without hesitation claim their vast superiority over their counterparts on - *spits* - consoles. Today I’m utterly intrigued by the Nintendo Wii, mainly because of its wireless, position-and-motion-sensing controller, which allows it to be used as a tennis racket, drumstick, lightsaber…Despite window-breaking potential, that sounds to me like good times! Sorry, 12-year-old self.

For the first time in ages I lost at Articulate last night - I’m not trying to claim any particular intelligence, it’s just that my brain happens to work in the right way for that game. Yesterday my team of men was beaten by a team of women. It is this last detail for which I feel I should apologise to my 12-year-old self, everything else I blame on my teammates.

Said loss was at my dance partner Lynsey’s 24th birthday party. It was great fun. Various far-flung friends attended, and it was good to catch up. Late in the evening I got talked into dancing the Time Warp. Not even the standard Time Warp, but the endlessly entertaining version by The Chipmunks (and the Chipettes). My supposed friend Ben took a picture:

Sorry, 12-year-old self.

I went to my dance teachers’ monthly ball last night, and left utterly exhausted. It was my own fault.

I’ve been trying to keep exercising since leaving home, but as the pace of dancing has increased it’s become apparent that I need to work harder. Daily ~2 mile walks are ok at keeping me at a passable level, but I’ve found myself struggling in the longer dance routines. I can keep going for a fair while, but I seem to start sweating much earlier than anybody else. I didn’t realise until somebody made a comment a few months ago, and promptly started feeling terribly self-conscious. I’d be literally dripping after a couple of the faster jives, and felt embarrassed, bad for Lynsey, and more than a little gross. Lighter clothes helped a little, but not enough.

I figured that getting fitter might help, so picked up a cheapo cross-trainer from eBay. I squeezed it into my bedroom (there wasn’t much room in there before) and tried to do twenty minutes before breakfast. I managed this for a fair while, and it helped, but not in the way I’d expected. I didn’t actually sweat less, but instead of sitting out a dance and getting hotter and hotter for ages, I’d cool off and recover within a couple of minutes. It wasn’t ideal, but a trawl around the Internet suggests little else - some people are just susceptible, apparently - and I felt like I was doing as much as I could.

And then the cross-trainer broke. The rotation became lurchy and it started making grinding noises. I took it as an excuse to take a couple of days off (it’s not like I enjoy exercise at the best of times), and then NaNoWriMo started and, to be honest, I put it at the bottom of my priorities. I eventually got around to taking it apart and there seems to be a problem with the belt sticking to the wheel, but I can’t tell much without somebody actually riding the bike while I watch the mechanism. November has meanwhile been very busy in entirely non-energetic ways. When out for the day, I’ve returned and spent a couple of hours writing rather than walking, and dancing itself has been relatively easy, too. I didn’t realise how little exercise I’d had.

At one point last night we went through two consecutive Viennese Waltzes (first time I’ve done the VW in public - was fun!), two cha-chas and two normal waltzes. I enjoyed doing it, but was exhausted by the end, and didn’t cool down for ages. I had an excellent evening, but cringe when I think how I must have looked. I honestly don’t know what I’m like to dance with when like that - Lynsey, to her credit, has never said anything - but I feel dreadful about it. Today my chest aches, which I guess is a sign that I pushed myself pretty hard. I wouldn’t want to do any less than that, though.

Thankfully NaNoWriMo’s nearly over, but I really must fix the bike. There’s a Christmas ball in three weeks, and I’m determined to have improved by then. Especially as I’ve set myself the challenge of completing a four-minute Viennese Waltz without stopping…If anybody happens to have any tips, they’d be gratefully received.