It takes two to tango

'So let's go dancing tonight!'. The voice of the director of the school where I teach English boomed out inappropriately across the office. I tutted. It was already late and I just wanted to get home to tea and cheese on toast. Think of the promotion, I reminded myself, the extra hours. 'OK Benito!', I answered before asking, 'Err, what sort of dancing exactly?'. 'Waltz, foxtrot, tango....' The list spiralled on dizzily. I gripped the nearest thing in a panic, it was the secretary. She wrestled herself free, scowling. 'So not...errr.....disco then?'. I guess not. An hour later, having stopped off for the director to change his shoes to dance more comfortably and after 3 limoncellos to steady the nerves we found ourselves standing at the side of the dance floor surveying the clearly competent participants whirling around effortlessly. 'What's this dance then?' Enquired the clearly enthusiastic director. I stared back blankly. It sounded gallopy but I doubted that was actually a dance. 'It's the......' and I mumbled an incoherent word. He strained in, grimacing. 'What?' I repeated, 'The.........'. He tapped his ear as if to say, can't hear a thing. Good, first hurdle. 'It's time to dance!' He announced triumphantly, clapping his hands together. I groaned. Visions of cheese on toast floated enticingly but elusively before me. I had an idea in my mind that even if you danced badly, if you did it with a confident look on your face, you could get away with it.....I was wrong. Before I knew it, there I was, being whirled around, the limoncello churning violently inside me. I kept stepping on the director's feet. 'Tut', I thought. 'Clearly he's out of practice'. Apart from the fact that he used to run a dance school before setting up the English school..... We stopped mid tango. 'Why's he doing that?' I thought. I waited. Actually it's a tango pause. I stepped on his feet again. We lurched and rolled and tripped our way round the dance floor. He glared at me. I apologised. It's not like I was doing it on purpose. The spectators were highly amused. Like watching the competitor ice skaters, willing them to fall..... At the end of the tango, I threw myself back. I've seen it done in films, a dramatic ending to an...errr....undramatic dance.....The sudden movement unbalanced the by now disillusioned director. We went tumbling down..... The band came to an abrupt stop, the needle being scratched off a record. So there I was, Friday night, in the middle of a, by now, relatively deserted dance floor, on my back, under my portly boss. Not quite what I had envisaged for a quiet wind-down to the week. The perspiration was seeping through his shirt. Whether this was due to the exertion or the excitement, I was unsure. He looked shocked and staggered with great effort to his feet. I followed suit. 'So should I have put my LEFT foot forward that time then...?' I enquired, trying to make light of a heavy situation. I looked skyward. 'Just once, ONCE, let me have a NORMAL night out'....

...and may all your Christmases be green

Well, I returned from a 2 week hol in London. Turned on my phone at the airport and it was already ringing. 'Pronto', I answered, knowing who it would be. 'Hello sweetheart, welcome back. I've got something for you, a late present....but better late than never.' Hmm, you think...? Sometimes I would prefer the never I must admit. Lovely! I answered appreciatively. It reminded me of my father years ago who stated seriously that even if someone gives you a clod of earth as a gift, you should be grateful for the thought. I remember struggling to understand at the time. Yes, the theory is great, but in practice......opening your presies on Xmas Day, full of anticipation and there you find.....a clod of earth. 'Ahhhh, you shouldn't have!' or 'I can see you've put a lot of thought into this' or, knowing the giver and anticipating their gift, reach into the bin 'and this is for you....' My regular readers will remember the recent pumpkin farce....Yes, it's the same person. 2 hours later, a ring at the doorbell. 'Listen, I can't stay long but I picked this today.' He thrust a plastic bag towards me. 'Happy Christmas!'. I peered in. A cabbage, albeit very fresh looking, peered back. It smelt cabbagy. A pause, perhaps too long. 'Ahhhh, you shouldn't have! I can see you've put a lot of thought into this'. I glanced towards the rubbish bin, unfortunately it was empty as I had just arrived back from holiday. My comments were well received. 'Sorry it's late'. You're apologising because it's LATE?! 'You might find some slugs or snails in it but it's all goodness! 'And...' he paused for effect 'I removed the outer leaves and fed them to the chickens'. His consideration overwhelmed me. 'Anyway, must dash.....' TT scowled at me, disgusted and trotted off to chew on an equally stinky bone. The tone was set for 2010...