Scottish invitations

Although my mother’s people (as we say) originated in Scotland and were proud of their Scottish roots and customs, the bond to the country itself was not strong for about 70 years–that is, from after the Second World War until I arrived, exhausted, on the bus from London and met my now-husband in person.

Thus, I was totally ignorant of Scottish post-war trends, like the rise–and leftward shoogle–of the Scottish Nationalist Party and the deep, abiding hatred of almost everybody for the late Margaret Thatcher. More importantly for our purposes, I was also ignorant of the local popular dance culture.

This included how men here ask (or asked) women to dance. My husband recited the formula to me, and I was delighted to see it confirmed by the very amusing Are Ye Dancin’? The Story of Scotland’s Dance Halls, Rock’n’roll, and How Yer Da Met Yer Maw by Eddie Tobin.

Gentleman: Are ye dancin’?

Lady: Are ye askin’?

Gentleman: Ah’m askin’!

Lady: Then ah’m dancin’!

That’s the formula for assent. According to Are Ye Dancin’ the formula for dissent is rather more crushing than “I’m sitting this one out, thank you,” for Scottish banter, correctly applied, can draw blood. The lady might say, “Naw, the doctor sent me here to convalesce” or “Naw, it’s just the way I’m standin’” or even “Is that a moustache, or is your eyebrow just havin’ a rest?”

Needless to say, this is a far cry from the strictures of Edinburgh dance schools, which held that ladies must almost never say no, but by the 1930s or so, women went to dance halls to find boyfriends and men flocked there to find girlfriends or, at least, someone to smooch in the alley or while seeing her home. (Presumably this is the “escorting” that horrified clergymen, and fair enough, from what I’ve read in Are Ye Dancin’.) One intrepid former youth interviewed for the book once calculated how long he could stay out before he would miss his ship (his place of employment), walked the girl home, had a smooch, and then ended up having to jump for ithe deck. (He acknowledges he could have been killed.) At any rate, accepting a dance might have been taken for personal interest in the asker, so I can well understand the brushoffs.

There was also a lot of fighting among the men, and last night as I was going to the bus stop after a swing dance “social” in Edinburgh, I was almost pleased by the sight and sound of two young Scots jostling each other outside the KFC. My companion was mildly alarmed, but to me it looked like something out of Are Ye Dancin‘ and therefore authentically Scottish. By the way, there was a lot of fighting in the post-war period because the local men very much resented the presence of occupying American soldiers in the dance halls. It was felt that the local lassies saw them as tickets to a better life, or at least that these men were better paid and had other unfair advantages in their pursuit of girls.

Swing dancing in 21st century Edinburgh is very much a multinational affair, which is not terribly surprising as it is, after all, a capital city with a prestigious university. If I recall correctly, only one of the men who asked me to dance last night did so with a Scottish accent, and he did not ask “Are ye dancin’?” but “Would you like to dance?” However, it seems worthwhile to know about the old formula for the rare occasions in which I find myself at a dance with enough Scotsmen old enough to remember it and trot it out.