After signing up for a month of ballroom dancing classes, Brian O'Connelland his partner Sophie find that, while the waltz, the jive and the clench hug all have their moments, it's the dark magic of the rumba that's the clincher
Week One
It was when I crunched the toes of my partner, Sophie, for the third time during an attempted waltz at her friend’s wedding that she issued the threat. Either my two left feet went, or she did.
Mind you she is no Olivia Newton-John herself. When both of us get together on a dance floor, the result is strictly not dancing. It is a clumsy shuffle, interrupted by groans of pain, nervous laughs and awkward thrusts.
Fred and Ginger’s mantle is safe enough, in other words.
After the wedding she produced a brochure for evening classes with “Ballroom Dancing for Beginners” circled in red. Okay, I agreed. I’ll try it for a month, but not a word about this to any of the lads.
On the last Wednesday night in January we lined up alongside four men and six women in the hall of Glanmire Community College, where tutor Derek Long had the task of turning us dancing ducklings into swirling swans. It was the equivalent of setting yourself up as a convertible car salesman in sniper-ridden Kabul.
Some of the would-be dancers were preparing for a wedding. One man was there because his wife had been trying to get him to dance for 25 years. The younger ones were there as a result of countless functions where the older folk took to the floor leaving a trail of bewildered thirtysomethings in their wake – and enough was enough.
Derek began with a “fun dance” to the soundtrack of Is This the Way to Amarillo?. We went through a series of leg thrusts and left and right movements. It felt wholly unnatural to be in a room of people I didn’t know, stone cold sober, not under any chemical influences, and actually dancing.
Next up was the basic jive step, and we finished the evening with an introduction to the waltz. The initial experience confirmed that I was no Leroy from Fame, but there were glimmers of hope. Dancing Derek was a patient man and a good communicator and Sophie and I laughed our way through the lesson.
Her toes even came out of it relatively intact.
Week Two
More would-be dancers turned up for the second week. The five men were now joined by an extra four women, which made it two females to every male in the class. Derek ordered us to line up opposite each other. Eyeing our female counterparts, it felt like that scene at the end of Braveheart when William Wallace and his men are left stranded by Robert Bruce and other Scottish kings to face the might of the English army, hopelessly outnumbered.
One of the ladies opposite me was wearing five-inch heels. My feet clinched in anticipated horror. Derek showed us how to do an underarm twirl and a clench hug. Having almost pulled the arms out of Sophie’s sockets at the first few attempts, I eventually got the hang of it. It was the first time in two-and-a-half years we could say we had danced together. And we laughed, and we didn’t make total eejits of ourselves.
We learned that closeness is the key in jiving. We soon got into the groove, a structured step movement involving heels, toes and a little left-to-right movement. We practised at home before week three, foregoing Questions and Answers one night for a skite around the sitting room in our pyjamas, with TR Dallas on the CD player. Honestly, does it get any more sensual?
Week Three
This was the week when I hit what professional sports people call “the wall”. Ireland were playing a World Cup qualifier in soccer and the kick-off coincided with our dancing class. For most of the afternoon, the “lads” had been texting: “On for watching the match tonight?” or “Collect you on the way into town later?”
Anyone who knows anything about male bonding and ritual knows not to answer football-related texts with the reply: “Nah, sorry lads, I’m a step off the pace with the waltzing and close to nailing the clench hug, so ballroom-dancing class takes precedence.” So I made up some excuses about having to replace an engine in a car, to finish sawing down a tree and shooting elephants out the back.
As the boys in green kicked off, Ms Newton-John and myself were trying a new manoeuvre with the waltz, involving sharp turns and movement around the floor in an anti-clockwise direction (or was it clockwise?). In any event, it wasn’t the type of fancy footwork I expected to be watching.
Waltzing requires concentration and a symbiosis between what you do with your feet and how your partner responds. I was struggling to visualise the end result and had trouble discerning how to adapt the steps to the beat when music was played. Dancing Derek was ever patient, encouraging and methodical. If he noticed one person struggling, he asked everyone to go through it slowly again. Later that night, he texted my partner and I, asking how we felt things were going, praising our progress to date and ending with words of encouragement.
It reminded me of one of those moments in Fame when a pupil doesn’t turn up for class for a few days and the teacher goes to the high-rise apartment block where Bruno or Coco lives to find out what’s going on. He gives them a pep talk, tells them to pull up their leg-warmers, and before you can say “kick” they’re back in class lepping about the place.
Dancing Derek had become our Mr Shorofsky.
Week Four
This was the make-or-break week when, having committed to the classes for a month, Sophie and I could assess what progress we’d made. It had been a chance to get out and do something different together, and we were now dancing and laughing. The basic jive movement we began with developed into a swirly, twirly, hip-bumping, hand-clapping routine. We could also waltz with some degree of assuredness.
Just when everything was becoming manageable, however, Derek introduced the dark Latin magic of the rumba. It’s a sinful dance, a right dirty dance. It’s all about hips and curves and sticking out and flaunting it.
The rumba was the deal-clincher, and we signed up for the improvers class. In total we learned three dances, from the standard waltz to the jive and on to the rumba. The jive progressed into what might most closely be called a full dance with a variety of sequences. It was the one I could most envisage taking onto a wedding dance floor while the 1960s medley is played. The rumba was to be continued over the final weeks and in the improvers class later.
No sooner had we committed to the rest of the course than an invite came through the door for a wedding in June. By then, we’ll have completed the beginners and improvers class. Hell, we’ll probably be wearing matching sparkly outfits. We’re looking forward to it already.
Put the best foot forward
Do
Get over your embarrassment
Try your new moves out in a social settingBut it's best to give the Hell's Angels annual dinner dance a skip.
Bring a partner alongOtherwise, if there are no other singles, you will feel self-conscious.
Be open to having your body go places it hasn’t gone before
Have patienceA lifetime of awkward shuffles takes a little undoing.
Don’t
Watch Saturday Night FeverJohn Travolta was probably dancing before he could talk.
Wear leg warmers- they went out of fashion in 1983
Similarly, don’t wear heels if you’re a lady, or runners if you’re a man.
Be self-conscious
In a novice class everyone is in the same boat. Having a drink beforehand to get the disco legs moving is another no-no.
Be ashamed of your new hobby- but don't tell the lads
Where to learn
Glanmire Community College, Cork
Contact Derek Long 086-1900397
Ballroom and Latin
American
Flora Millar Dance Centre, Parnell Square Dublin
www.floramillar.com 01-2888455
Ballroom and Latin dancing classes from four years of age upwards.
Lia Mullins Dance School Located throughout Dublin city.
www.liamullins.com Tel: 086-3763406
From ages three to 90, and touching on everything from street jazz to samba.
Galway Swing, Galway City and county
Contact Paul Neary www.galwayswing.com
Tel: 087-9358160. Classes to 1930s and 1940s jazz.
Dance Factory, Mullingar
Contact Aimee MacManus 087-9851452.
From hip-hop to ballroom with private classes for the first dance for wedding couples.
