A Vintage Event

I love birthdays and can never let my own pass by without a treat. This year’s treat was a very old-fashioned event: supper at home with husband and Dance Committee, then going by taxicab to a jazz club for dancing, and then taxicabbing home. As Mr McLean insisted that I not cook but order in pizza instead, it was a simple plan. Then Storm Éowyn arrived, and it had to be postponed.

A new date was set–conveniently just after my name day–and the plan was even simpler, as I baked shortbread instead of a birthday cake. But this time a phone engineer arrived, intent upon lacing our tiny flat with copper wire. Mr McL and I opted to reschedule and sent him home just as the pizzeria deliveryman knocked on the door.

Chaos averted, we had our supper at the dining-room table, and to my modified surprise (I had seen a large box carried in but had no idea what it could be), the Committee presented me with a “Bluetooth Turntable Player”, or what used to be known as a gramophone, and a careful selection of shellac or vinyl discs featuring waltzes, jazz, and even Sir Jimmy Shand. I was simultaneously delighted and frightened of breaking it; I haven’t had a new record player since 1985.

The taxicab arrived, we gathered our coats, and off we went in style to Inverleith. The venue was a well-lit club house with a bar across the room, some round tables seating eight, a cashier’s table, and, still setting up, a five-piece jazz band. To my surprise, the early arrivals among the listeners were mostly over 50 and, indeed, there were even quite elderly people. However, my party and I recognized a younger person here and there among the lindyhoppers and Balboa aficionados.

Balboa works well for fast-tempo jazz, as there are no swing outs, and the dancers trot around in narrow circles, clinging together

“How do we feel about Balboa?” I asked my young companions. “Is it an appropriate dance for Catholics?”

“Too close,” pronounced the one who had rejected tango on similar grounds.

I stifled a sigh. Ten years ago or so I happened upon a Balboa class, and it looked very risqué to me. However, last night its dancers engaged in it tastefully and with merriment. Indeed, everyone looked very cheerful and in high spirits, with the possible exception of elderly foxtrotters trying to avoid me and my Lindyhopping friends.

“We must learn the foxtrot,” I said a hundred times. “It would be so useful.”

One of our chaps prefers waltz to Lindy, and we made a success of dancing it to “The White Cliffs of Dover”, which was a highlight of the evening. (However, we must learn the foxtrot, which would BSU.) But there were many opportunities to dance Lindy, and we took a goodly number of them. This, however, depended on the boys, for we are TRADS. (In the trad ethos, ladies don’t ask gentlemen to dance. We sit patiently until we can’t stand it and then give male friends the side eye. The water-tight excuse for this is that in the trad ethos men also lead and only they can determine if they can lead during that particular tune.)

I think it had been awhile since any of us had swing-danced, and it was good to get some practice, as well as hear a live jazz band, which at least one of us had never done before. (The jazz musician among us was radiant.) Naturally, it would be good to get more weekly lessons, but I still haven’t worked out how to do this without 1. our Catholic sensibilities being violated 2. violating the non-Catholic sensibilities of teachers 3. overspending.

“Would you consider going back to—?”

“Never!”

At two minutes to eleven, my phone burst into “Taint What You Do”, my current ring tone, and a recorded female voice told me the taxi had arrived. So, about two minutes later, when the band triumphantly tootled to a close, we left and bundled into another traditional boxy cab.

I was home before midnight but felt that my birthday (and name day) had been well and truly celebrated, and that it was definitely time to get back to some serious dancing.

Upcoming Events

Our next official dance event will be on the afternoon of Sunday, February 23, which will include a hour’s waltzing lessons. (If you are interested, please let me know!) This will be the first of three workshops to prepare us for the Second Annual Eastertide Dance, which will take place on Friday, April 25—Easter Friday (not, naturally, Good Friday, which some post-Christian Britons have taken to calling Easter Friday). The other two will be on March 2 and Easter Monday, April 21.

Tickets for the Eastertide Dance are now available to sale to Catholics who love the Traditional Latin Mass and those who like us. If you would like one or two, please let me know! We are in a smaller hall this time, so there is limited availability.