“We never know how many people we have until we’re in the room,” I told our fledgling waltzing instructors at After-Mass Tea. I encouraged them to do their best with the materials they had at hand.
That’s my best advice to all dance organisers in smallish communities. No matter how well you organise–and I do encourage you to think out every detail in advance–you have to have a certain flexibility. This is especially true concerning numbers.
Of course, there are non-negotiables, too. Everyone must be made known to the host or hostess. Everyone should help to ensure that everyone else feels welcome and has fun. The complementarity of the sexes must be observed. The dress code must honour the community standard. The janitor must not be tried beyond his patience.
The usual handicap of our waltzing parties is that our TLM community has many more men than women. However, this time we had near-gender parity, for a visiting family consisted of ladies as well as gentlemen, and we were graced by two girls from the Jesuit parish. Thus, we had nine gentlemen and seven ladies.
One interesting and unprecedented challenge yesterday was that one of the visiting ladies did not speak much English. However, her native tongue is one of the principal languages of Europe and spoken fluently by two of our gentlemen. Thus, she was able to have both pleasant conversations and the dance steps explained to her. And I was proud to see Tante M. happily waltzing and galloping through the Eightsome and Virginia Reels. Hospitality is our priority.
A perennial challenge is that the waltz is tricky if you haven’t done it before, so we began at the beginning: asking ladies to dance, standing according to the frame, and dancing the box step—both the “natural” and the “reverse.” But no—I err. We started by watching an 18-step routine by our new dance instructors, who are both Catholics and keen ballroomers: something very rare in my Edinburgh experience! Anyway, we started with that, getting out of their way as they swooped counter-clockwise around the room. We could see from this demonstration our cherished destination. In about five years, we’ll be ready for Vienna. Or, if not Vienna, Blackpool.
Our waltz class was followed by an intermission for gingerbread, crisps and squash and then our first ceilidh dance. As I had requested a lesson in the Eightsome Reel, and we could make up–with dignity–only six couples, our instructress did what she could and, as a supplement, recruited another instructor to teach the Virginia Reel.
During the Virginia Reel, a familiar figure in black crept into the room on noiseless feet, like a cat. He made straight for the corner nearest the refreshments table. It was a CLERIC, and our most quick-witted dancer ripped down the mistletoe and threw it under a bench.
No—I jest. There was no mistletoe. (In fact, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen mistletoe, save on a tree.) For one thing, it is still Advent, after all, and we are traditionalists. For another, we are too decorous for mistletoe–although clearly I’m not too decorous to mention it and look up where I can get some. (Taste of Poland on Leith Walk, apparently.) Anyway, I believe our clerical guest found nothing to disturb him, for he sat happily in his corner drinking squash and nibbling gingerbread as the rest of us danced.
The ceilidh portion of the afternoon ended earlier than I expected, and our waltzing instructor wanted to show another step, so we went back to waltz class until the Free Dance at 4:30 PM. This time free waltzing was more popular than free swing-dancing. However, there was an interruption when the bluetooth speaker began to play my ringtone. Lo, it was Mr McLean, reporting on the nativity set he wished to buy from the Society of St Paul.
Anyway, the Waltzing Party continued without any other mishap, and at 4:55 PM I called for Strip the Willow, which Tante M was made to learn through watching and doing, and when the chaos was over, a choir member led us in Alma Redemptoris Mater.
So that was our Gaudete Sunday 2025 party. Guests lingered in the room and then, with the advent of the janitor, in the dark outside the hall. They seemed reluctant to leave—perhaps because for many it was a last good-bye before going home for Christmas. Meanwhile, for those Christmassing in Edinburgh, there is an opportunity to join our party of (so far) six for the December 30 ceilidh at Assembly Roxy. There are still tickets available (and I have an extra for the sake of gender parity). I can highly recommend the hosts/band Big Shoogle, who are very fun indeed.
For tickets and more information, please click here. Let me know you are coming, or approach me there to say Hello and be introduced. I will be the woman with too much hair and Maclean Hunting tartan.