Swing dance

Of the three days captured here, the only highlight worth remembering was the Mystery Messaround. I take swing dance lessons once a week, if I can make it, with Swing Belfast. Once a month they have a dance at a tennis club that has a small dance floor. It’s called the Messaround. We all basically get to practice the moves we learned in class. Once a year there’s the Mystery Messaround, where we meet on a street in Belfast, get on a bus, and go to an undisclosed location.

Saturday night we went to a lovely modern A-frame building, used for weddings and corporate meetings, in the middle of nowhere. It had a big glass floor-to-ceiling window looking out on a lake, with a deck where you could stand and watch the sun set. More importantly, a big wooden floor and plenty of room to dance. This is my fourth Swing Belfast dance. Each time, I’ve challenged myself to ask at least X men to dance (first three, then four, then five). Tonight’s goal was seven and I hit 10, go me. Some asked me, and I asked others. I danced great with some and not so great with others. I need a very clear lead because, if the lead isn’t clear, I will guess wrong. As I’m getting to know everyone, it’s easier to get on the dance floor. Everyone is really friendly, so that helps.

I actually met a woman who attended Foyle College, my high school, and now teaches at Queen’s. She’s good friends with Siobhan Bigger, whom I saw twice last weekend. N.I. is like that.

The dance was the most fun I’ve had on a Saturday night in years. Partly enabled by more drink than I would normally have. Which explains why I hardly moved on Sunday. I hate losing a whole day to a hangover, but Saturday night was a real treat. Good music, good company, and the occasional twirl around the dance floor.
July 21-23