Dance like nobody’s watching

Wow oh wow oh wow!

I had the most incredible dance weekend ever, and that’s despite my encountering a number of rather silly problems which caused me to miss a number of workshops.

This wasn’t the same as previous weekenders where I was determined to get to as many workshops as possible in order to make up for my suffering my usual lack of confidence on the dance floor. Instead, because the boy and I attended Robert & Nicola Royston’s novice dance intensive (eight hours of dance theory and drills over Thursday and Friday), our heads were rather overloaded and we inadvertently ended up taking it easy on Thursday night (i.e. we fell asleep, woke up at 2 am and decided to sleep till morning rather than go for the social).

On Friday, as it was the boy’s last night at the event (he had to go off on business on Saturday), we ended up hanging out with our dance friends, imbibing copious amounts of alcohol and then hitting the dance floor close to 4 am. We ended up dancing till 6 am – and I even managed a dance where a friend told the boy that I “looked really good” and that I was “really working it”, comments I’d not ever heard before. That guy even asked me for a second dance later!

That became our first ever entry into The Breakfast Club (i.e. the legion of people who stay up all the way till breakfast is served at 6 am).

Knee Watch 2013, part 2

I have got to say that there is nothing quite like private medical insurance when you’re in the UK. I’m particularly grateful for the policy that my company has now (and am well aware that I, personally, would not have paid for this level of coverage because it’s a significant amount per year) because they’ve helped to get me an appointment with an orthopaedic surgeon just days after my GP agreed to refer me to one.

Now, those of you not in the UK will realise how great this is. If I had been referred to an orthopaedic surgeon on the NHS, I’d have to wait up to 18 months as I’m down as a non-emergency case.

Neil Gaiman – Neverwhere…

can now be heard on BBC Radio 4. The following episodes can be heard on BBC Radio 4 Extra. The BBC production features a dream cast of James McAvoy (Richard Mayhew), Natalie Dormer (Door), Benedict Cumberbatch (The Angel Islington) and David Harewood (The Marquis de Carabas). Listen to it here. Link works for non-UK listeners as well, I’m told.

I’m really looking forward to it, truth be told. It’s one of the best stories I’ve read.

Good Vibes, Great Deal

Went for my second TRX session today, and my arms are aching. If you factor in two hours of dance yesterday and yoga on Sunday, that’s four consecutive days of activity. Let’s see if I can make it to six before Love Brunch this weekend!

On another note, Good Vibes, the studio I swear by even if I don’t go as regularly as I used to, is offering an incredible deal of a one-year membership at a lump sum of £750. That works out to £62.50 a month, against the cheapest offer of £100 a month usually!

Perhaps you don’t think that it’s a good deal at all, but, I’d point out that the studios are located in central London (Covent Garden and Fitzrovia), offer power plate sessions (which usually go for between £12.50 and £20 each, depending on whether you have purchased a package or are just dropping in for a session), Vinyasa yoga (a dynamic form of yoga, so perfect for an active person like me), Pilates and spinning, all of which are taught by ably qualified and attentive instructors.

If you’re not sure whether you’d like to commit to such a large payment upfront, then give their 30 days for £30 deal a go and decide from there.

But, be warned, the one-year membership offer expires at midnight on December 31st. You can be sure I’ve got that in my diary!

P.S. No, I get nothing from Good Vibes for writing about this. I just think it’s an unmissable deal at a wonderful studio.

The London 2012 Games – a personal commentary

I know others have written about this, and more eloquently too, but I just wanted to capture my thoughts on what it’s felt like to have been in the great city of London throughout the Olympics and Paralympics. I’m one of those who’s always wanted to be here (job situation aside). The mere thought of leaving the city because of the expected influx of tourists and resultant chaos never even crossed my mind. I mean, seriously? Leave London and voluntarily miss out on being a part of the greatest Olympic Games ever? Are you loco?

Up until June, I didn’t expect to be watching any events live.

Self-Praise

Wow, I can’t get over how many people have viewed my coffee shop Easter opening list. It’s registered over 300 views, and that’s quite a lot, even with repeat visits. Like, dude.

I mean, of course, I compiled it for people to use, and I’m happy it’d been publicised by some coffee stalwarts (*cough* one of the top baristas in the South East *cough*), and, been used by some coffee heavyweights (*cough* a former world barista champion *cough*). I’m also happy that some people have tweeted to thank me, but, honestly, just knowing that people were using it warmed my heart.

“Create freedom” - Tina, We Salute You

Compliments

Recently, I have been receiving compliments from some of my Twitter followers, having met several of them in person over the last few days. These people have all been people who've been following me on Twitter for more than a few weeks. I've been told by someone who writes for a living that she thought I was interesting and a good writer to boot. Another who met me in person for the first time told me that I'd survived a Twitter purge because she liked what I wrote, as I wrote about life and trends. Yet another told me that I, along with another person he follows, brighten up his Twitter stream.

I'd be lying if I said the compliments had no impact on me whatsoever. In fact, because the compliments have all been unsolicited and have been said by completely different people working in different fields (writing, fashion and hospitality), I'm incredibly pleased, particularly considering that I haven't been having a great last few couple of weeks. I'm even starting to believe that I just may be a half-way decent writer after all.

Thank you all so very much.

A (tango) journey of a thousand li begins with a forward ocho...

How time flies!

I have been in Buenos Aires for eight days now and it feels as if I have just arrived. In many other ways, though, I have learnt so much, and, yet, not enough. I've been taking many lessons in two tango styles: traditional (milonga) and tango nueva and have been trying to figure out which one I liked more. I think I have an inkling, but, to be honest, when you nail it, everything feels good.

Like yesterday.

Feels like coming home

I can't explain just how happy I am to be in Buenos Aires. Sure, I am a little lonely here and it is not cheap to be doing the activities that give me this great incredible feeling of being centred, but... It is just such a great city!

I thought I might regret coming back to a city I visited just eight months ago, and, unlike many people, I am not back here because of a boy (not that there's anything wrong with that, as I would love to have that reason), but, I just feel so glad to be here once again, all on my own.

I've been tangoed

Holy moly, I cannot believe it. I've booked my flights.

Knowing full well that my new job may well kill me - I am, after all, returning to the soul-crushing hours I used to work and will be working alongside the crazy, intense kind of people I used to work with - I've decided to make full use of the time I have before I start work, and return to Buenos Aires to learn tango. I leave in a few weeks.

I was initially rather hesitant. After all, wouldn't I prefer going to a place I haven't been before, or going to New York and Boston instead, where I know I'd have a great time just exploring the cities and meeting up with friends and friends' friends?

I thought for a bit. And thought for a bit more, and realised I'd rather spend that time more productively, and do something enriching, instead of merely building memories. Nothing wrong with the latter, but I can do that even after I start my new job, only that I'll have to cram it into a shorter period of time.

I was still dithering though. Wasn't I at way too junior a level to go off to Buenos Aires and learn this most sexy and technical of dances? After all, I've only had about ten hours of lessons to date.

Dance Yourself Clean

I don't think I've ever felt as happy or as free in London in recent times as I did on Saturday.

What exactly was it about that day which made me so happy?

Maybe it was the awesome Britney dance workshop I took, maybe it was the alcohol I drank, maybe it was the great venue that is Bloomsbury Lanes, and maybe it was just meeting fantastic people with whom I clicked and just ended up talking complete and utter rubbish with. Any of these things would have made me mildly happy. The combination of all of them, I suspect, led to my being incredibly, deliriously relaxed.

Let me talk a little about the workshop. As always, it was conducted by my favourite street dance teacher, Elliot, whose class never fails to leave me happy. He'd decided to teach us the routines to Slave 4 U (probably my favourite Britney song because it's just so durrty) and Toxic. And, of course, as it was Elliot's class, it wasn't easy. As it'd be quite some time since I last attended one of his classes, it was time for me to re-learn the lessons that I'd learnt a while back:

1. A class is meant to be difficult. If it's not hard, you're not learning. If you're not learning, it's not good.
2. When in dance - and in all else - if you feel you can't do it, put on a character who can. Leave all your inhibitions behind and just be that crazy creature who can do it all, and has the attitude to match. 

And you know what? I may not have killed it, but there was a moment when I nailed it and the grin on my face was so incredibly huge, you could have spotted it from a mile away.

What I didn't expect was Elliot to get us all into a dance circle at the very end where everyone was expected to dance in the middle while he played a Britney mini-mix. I'd half expected someone to turn all professional on us, but no one did, instead opting for cheesy dance moves, much to my relief!

I had a short break between the workshop to get ready for a friend's birthday whereupon I ran into a lady whom I'd met over a year ago. It turned out neither one of us really knew that many people there, and we had several things in common and ended up chatting for the remainder of the party while nursing some rather unusual beers. As she was leaving to meet up with her friends at Bloomsbury Lanes, she invited me along, possibly because I'd said I'd heard so many great things about the venue but none of my friends wanted to dress up and go.

I'm not sure why I decided to go as, usually, I'd feel strange about gatecrashing someone else's event, and not knowing anyone else there, but it was just one of those nights when I'd thrown all caution to the wind quite some time ago. Quite possibly, I was still in my Britney character as I knew I was looking good, if not quite in an appropriate outfit for bowling (read: short dress).

Off I went. It turned out to that We, Like You featuring Norman Jay (MBE) was happening that night, so double yay! I ended up bowling and boogie-ing all at the same time. I really sucked at the former, not even breaking 50. Fortunately, I was much better at the latter. I think it's the first time in a while I was busting out crazy dance moves in front of almost-perfect-strangers. The music was wonderful, ranging from Paul Simon - You Can Call Me Al to Major Lazer - Pon Di Floor and everything else in between.

They even dropped a techno remix to an Irish tune which sounded a lot like one of the tunes off Sid Meier's Colonization, one of my favourite computer games ever, and, yes, everyone on the floor was doing an Irish dance. How cool is that?!

We finished bowling just about the time Norman stepped up to the decks. He dropped a combination of funky house and drum 'n' bass tunes, and I've got to say it's a bit of a relief to find out that no one really knows how to dance to d 'n' b. Everyone pretty much just tries to move as fast as they can!

What completed that great night was that the lady who'd invited me along? She loves to dance too, so, there we were, both of us, just showing off some moves. It was awesome.

As the clock struck 1 am, which then turned into 2 am as the clocks moved forward, I decided I needed to make a move as I had to get up early the following morning. I pretty much bounced back home, so happy and relaxed I was. It's been a long time since I had a proper dance (and, by that, I mean a challenging dance routine) and a proper clubbing session (and, by that, I mean just strutting my stuff with fellow dancers).

So, yes. Spring has officially arrived, and I have found another reason, another memory, as to why I love London so much.

Singles Night Recap

So my weekend didn't turn out to be as brutal as it could have. The workmen came, took one look, cancelled the job and told me they'd reschedule. Apparently, I needed to have my washing machine disconnected and they weren't allowed to touch it. Now, if this were the only reason the job was cancelled, I'd have been hopping mad. However, they noticed that the quality of the flooring job done before I even moved to the UK was ridiculously atrocious to the point that the previous jobsman should have called home to his parents to confess just how utterly s**** he was right after completing the job, and stayed long enough to determine exactly what it is they needed to bring in order to get the job done. I don't know if that's going to add an extra cost. To be honest, this is England, so I wouldn't be surprised, but I really hope it doesn't add a crapload more.

But, I digress. This is supposed to be about the Singles Night. To be more specific, it was a singles night at a supperclub. I rocked up to the venue a few minutes before eight with wine (Malbec 2008) and cheese (Ossau Irraty) in hand, said a quick prayer, and entered. I was introduced to a couple of people who'd arrived just before I had, and quickly got talking - to the girls. It's just easier to start talking to fellow females at such events. Thankfully, the host came and ushered us to seats quickly after where we sat boy-girl-boy-girl and got to chatting with our neighbours.

About twenty minutes in, food was served. The men were asked to change tables between courses, and, as far as I could figure, our table pretty much met about half of the men present. I was a little disappointed as someone I thought who was quite good-looking had come in after I had and he never got to my table. You'd think it'd be easy to go up to him after dinner, but, the thing is, if you haven't been introduced in some way or other, and you're all by yourself, going up to someone to chat is about the same as going up to a random stranger to chat them up. It's still scary.

I met an eclectic bunch of people: a nice lady who ran her own supperclub, an older gentleman who commuted between the UK and Africa for work and who was only due to be in London for three months (boo, I say, boo, that's cheating), an American with a very strange accent and who came across as socially awkward at best, I'm sorry to say, and a nice English boy whom I spent quite a long time talking to and whom, like I, had come all by himself, but who left without saying "bye" or getting my number.

In short, no success on the purpose of the singles night, though I did have a fun time chatting to people. Not that I expected anything much, to be perfectly frank. I never really do when I go to such things. The best that I hope for is that I emerge with a not-too-crushed ego and some nice stories.

The fabulous hostess caught up with me later to ask how I was doing. I had fun, I told her (and I did, despite my great exhaustion and stress about the day after), but I was a little disappointed that that guy had left and I didn't get an opportunity to ask for his details. The host told me she felt that that guy in particular was "extra extra shy" and that she could pass me his contacts if I'd like.

Tempting, but not my style. I just kind of feel that if the opportunity for getting it naturally has passed, having someone else give it to me, or ask on my behalf, just feels like it's a bit full-on, no?

I don't know, if I'm being an idiot, just tell me. I have weird, antiquated notions about dating, sometimes.

The day after, the friend who'd set me up on that called me to find out how it went. The food was awesome. We had great Vietnamese food: summer rolls, soup, noodles, frogs' legs with wasabi mayonnaise and fantastic fries, a great poached pear dessert and, of course, a cheese board. I'd love to go back there again on a normal night.

But, in terms of the men, I told her, no luck. Nice people, but... no luck. Seems to just about sum up this weekend so far, to be honest! When I started writing this, Manchester United was one goal up at Old Trafford, but, just as I got to the penultimate paragraph, City got one goal back, via a terrible deflection off Silva's backside, of all people and body parts! But, I have faith in my team, and myself. I'm a tough girl, as are my beloved Red Devils!

Edited: And what a win! Fantastic goal by Rooney. Told ya!

Review: HMV Next Big Thing - Emil, Alex Clare and Jessie J at Barfly Camden

Sunday's HMV Next Big Thing was a pivotal moment for me. It wasn't just one of those "this is why I love London so much" moments. It was also the moment I realised that I just might love going to gigs more than just listening to music. As in, live music is in itself now a separate passion of mine, and not just lumped into the "I love music" category. I'm not explaining myself very clearly, but I guess if I had to put it into online dating terms, the person I'd like to date would ideally not just love music, but also love going to gigs. I'm a little tired of going to them by myself*, but, at the same time, my gig-going time is sacrosanct and I don't want to spend the time wondering whether the person's enjoying himself.

Anyway, back to the gig. I arrived early enough to catch Emil on stage. I don't know very much about him, but he did sound a lot like Michael Jackson. That's about all I can say, really.

Next up was Alex Clare, someone I'd only just heard of that night, but whose flyer had caught my attention with the words "produced by Diplo and Switch." That's right. The Philly guys behind Major Lazer. I wasn't sure what to expect, but certainly not the white bearded guy who appeared singing what I would have classified as soul with a touch of funk. Diplo and Switch's dubstep influence was apparent in the next song when when Alex launched into Up All Night. His concluding song Relax My Beloved was also pretty damn good. He's got quite the pair of lungs and I'm definitely looking forward to catching him again.

Then up was the artiste all 200 of us crammed into this tiny venue were here to see: Jessie J. Not quite a "Next Big Thing", some might argue, seeing as she'd won the not-at-all pressurising title of BBC Sound of 2011 and had been featured on Later with Jools Holland a number of times. Whatever. I didn't care. It's very rare one gets a chance to see anyone, let alone a singer of her stature, performing in such an intimate venue, particularly a singer who'd just achieved her first number 1 single that same day.

I've got to say she came across brilliantly. She was brimming with self-confidence, talked quite a fair bit and seemed very genuine, down-to-earth and just an all-round good person. She seemed close to tears at what she'd achieved, "trying not to cry at the whole point of being number one." At one point, she asked for the house lights to be turned on to the fullest because "they came to see me but I came to see them."

Her voice was amazing as you'd expect. I thought her songs were not bad, though not brilliant, but she's got a way of singing that makes them stand out. They're not just radio-friendly, they've got a way of getting past your defenses because, hey, Nobody's Perfect, it's not about the money, money, money, and everyone is bruising.

Speaking of which, I really really love Who You Are. I don't know why but the song almost made me cry on Sunday, and it still has the same effect on me now.



Another highlight of the gig was the impromptu song Jessie sang. It's hard to come up with lines on the spot but she didn't seem to have any issues! She's quite the comedian.



As I said earlier, Jessie isn't the Next Big Thing. She's clearly already there.

* The next gig I'm going to, I won't be alone.

Hip Hop Meets Ballet

After having had a few months off dance class, I decided to dive right back in with Craig's Save the Last Dance workshop at Frame yesterday.

Yes, I, someone with no ballet experience whatsoever (I tried one class when I was four, told the teacher that I hated it and that my mother said it was fine and never went back), decided to try to learn the Juilliard audition piece in two hours.



Clearly something that was never going to happen. My hip hop's not that great either, though I know, in my younger days, there've been times when I've been on fire and absolutely nailed the piece at the last moment, giving my instructor no end of joy.

I may have forgotten his name, but, sir, please know that the comments you made at my very last dance class that summer have stayed with me and made me continue with street dance, even if I'm doing it purely for fitness and fun.

In any case, it was an incredibly fun if frustrating workshop. My brain simply cannot cope with arm and leg movements simultaneously, which is very annoying for someone like me, as I've done dance for so long, and that is my single, biggest problem.

Still, I managed, with my arms doing whatever felt right when I wasn't thinking too hard.

But I can tell you: it's hard. So when I found this video of former Miami City Ballet Principal Alex Wong off So You Think You Can Dance dancing some amazing hip hop, I was completely blown away. This video doesn't include the rehearsal segment where Alex is just about freaking out because he's so out of his element, so when you put this into context, it's just... whoa. Dude would have won if he hadn't been injured, I swear.

Despite my great love of dancing, I have never once had a boyfriend - or even someone I'd gone out with more than just a few times - who shared my passion. It's not a prerequisite, though it is very much a nice-to-have. After all, I tend to fall - just a little - for anyone I have a great dance with. It's difficult not to, because I'm just so in the moment and unguarded. And, in the words of the great George Bernard Shaw, dancing is a vertical expression of a horizontal desire legalised by music.

It's incredibly uncommon to find a guy who really loves to do proper social dancing as opposed to busting out some moves on a dance floor. So, I guess, in lieu of that, I'm comforted that there's an alternative: you can rent a dance partner, not just for practice, but for tea dances too. I'd love to give it a go one of these days.

Okay, fine, so all was not perfect with my Argentina trip. Two days before I left, Nestor Kircher, the former President of Argentina, and the husband of the current President, died suddenly, which resulted in an official mourning period of a few days which, unfortunately, meant the rescheduling of this to the 16th, three days after I was due to leave Buenos Aires.

It's obvious to all who know me just how much I enjoy watching football, so, yes, I, too, was distraught to learn of Nestor's passing. But, I shared the same view as quite a few Argentines I met. What, exactly, does the death of a former President have to do with football? And wouldn't it have been more logical to reschedule the game which was due to occur during the mourning period, rather than reschedule every game to be played?

According to my guide in Salta, there is an Argentine saying: why do things the simple way when you can do them the difficult way?

Anyway, the game was played last night. River Plate beat Boca Juniors 1-0 at River's home ground. It was River's first league win in eight games, and their first win over Boca since 2007. If I had gone, I would have been at the River end of the stadium, in the Popular standing area, catching a game between two teams which, between them, command 70% of the football fans in Argentina and enjoying the biggest footballing rivalry on this planet.

Argh!

I guess I'll just have to go back one day to catch it then... if only games didn't get rescheduled constantly!

Oh man oh man oh man oh man oh man. Guess what's on when I'll be in Argentina?! Am I really crazy enough to want to experience that? Am I ever!

I was reading The Guardian's profile on oh-so-sexy Jon Hamm and found out that he's not only attached (no!) but has been in a relationship with Jessica Westfeldt since 1997. Imagine my surprise once I realised that she's the same lady who co-wrote and starred as the eponymous lead in Kissing Jessica Stein, just one of my favourite indie movies ever.

For those of you not blessed enough to have stumbled across this gem of a film, it features a fantastic line from Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke, and is the same line which brings Helen and Jessica together:

It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical will live the relation to another as something alive.

And, for some reason, I'm relating to it a lot more today than I did when I first watched the movie almost ten years ago when it came out. Maybe it's because I'm older and wiser, and filled more with a sense of vulnerability as opposed to that sense that the whole world lay before me those many years ago.

Maybe it's also because I'm working on finding that girl who once managed to toss aside all her inhibitions and throw herself utterly and completely into one dance routine, causing her instructor to exclaim joyfully, "Yes! I knew you had it in you. You did it! You looked so fierce and so full of attitude, and that's what I've wanted this whole time!" That was also my last dance for a while and I've not quite been able to find that girl since.

You might wonder what dance has to do with anything of this, if that quote relates more to living than anything else. Well, for me, dance is an incredibly important part of my life. I've noticed how much happier I am when I get to dance at least once a week, even when the class is incredibly difficult and makes me doubt myself because I'm just not getting the steps. I remember just how much more confidence I had when I could nail routines, when I could pretend to be someone else - like Beyonce did with Sasha Fierce - in that studio. And I've been desperately looking for that girl who's so in control and so full of confidence that when the teacher instructs the class to improvise during a break in the song, she doesn't give a crap and dances, even when everyone else in the class is too embarrassed to respond.

Why? Because, when I find that girl, I'm hoping she'll inspire me to be exactly the same in every other part of my life. Till then, I figure if I fake it for long enough, I'll eventually become her.

Viva Espana!

Two World Cups in a row, I've managed to pick the winner. I am well pleased... especially since, this time around, being correct means picking up 50 quid!

If only the Final had been just a tad more about skill, and less about fouls... and if only it hadn't gone into extra-time, thus leaving me feeling like a zombie for the second day-after-World-Cup-final in a row!

Every World Cup is an unpredictable one. This one, though, has had a lot more upsets than anyone expected, most notably Argentina crashing out 4-0 to Germany yesterday.

I prefer South American teams - maybe I just like that they have dance in their blood - and it's been an upsetting few days, watching the samba boys (in spite of their boring style) and tangueros crash out unexpectedly. And seeing as integrity is one of the qualities I value the most, the fact that Uruguay will now be considered the best team in South America, after that thoroughly despicable handball by Suarez which denied Ghana, adds to my general unhappiness with this tournament.

To be fair, if I were in Suarez's shoes, I would have done exactly the same thing. Also, given the limited time he had to react, it's very possible it may just have been instinctive. But if it wasn't, while It may go against the spirit of sportsmanship, the goal of football is to win, after all, and if I had to sacrifice myself to prevent a certain goal, so that my team had even just a 1% chance of saving the penalty, I'd do it. As P. said, Gyan wouldn't have been able to convert it anyone even if the keeper hadn't been there.

Before the tournament started, I'd gone for Spain to win. I'm not so sure now. Based on their semi-final opponents' form, not to mention Spain's generally boring play throughout the World Cup, Germany should slaughter them. Barring any more upsets - and Spain winning would be an upset, believe you, me - we should saw a repeat of the 1974 World Cup Final which saw the favourites Holland lose to Germany. Again, based on form, it's hard to see anything other than Germany winning a fourth World Cup title!