Well the Christmas Fairy dance shoes were an unmitigated success. I was quite subconscious taking them out of my handbag, but a glimpse of twinkle was all it took for the dance teacher to ooh and aah over them. 'I have those in gold', she said (at which point my heart soared). Odd though it may seem, they did help my dancing a little. The suede soles meant that sliding over the church hall floor was easier, and they were light and comfy too. In fact, they were that comfy that I very nearly forgot to take them off when we left. What a disaster that would have been - it was raining so my shoes would have had a life span of around an hour and a half had I taken one step outside.
Based on the improvement to my dancing last night, I am starting to look for a pair for the husband. Sparkle of any kind is out of the question naturally, but perhaps a mock croc or brushed velvet? This is the problem when the husband leaves it to me - he could end up with absolutely anything, and will be duty bound to wear them with a smile on his face.
We've got quite friendly with another couple at Swing Club (that doesn't sound right, but you know where I'm coming from) and they flashed a leaflet under our noses on Wednesday evening which was advertising a weekend away. This was two nights of Boogaloo, Jump Jive, Lindy Hop and Swing, and looked great fun, with everyone dressing up and enjoying live bands. The husband looked quite interested, and he asked them when it was. Turned out it was the last weekend in March. Well the husband looked at me, and surprised me by saying that it looked amazing, and that we should look to go. I had to have a sit down at that point, but it all came good in the end when the husband realised that it was this year and not next. Another 48 weeks, and we may be able to stand up on a dance floor with others of a similar ilk, and not stand out like a couple of ACDC fans at a Barry Manilow concert.
Last night was my final session of exercise for the week. Swimming with Mrs S is always fun on a Thursday. I think it's because if we are brutally honest, both of us would rather not be there at all, preferring to be sitting in the curry house further down the road stampeding through plates of poppadums. But because we are going together, we egg each other on and have a bit of a giggle as we pass each other on the lanes.
Last night there was a new lady hogging what is fondly known as 'our lane'. Now I thought my swimming was bad, but she left enough wake that the pool considered cancelling the wave machine last night. Swimming sedately behind her, I did at least eight lengths looking over my right shoulder to avoid drowning. The children enjoying the water slide have now labelled me as the 'Nosey Lady in The Slow Lane', a name which may take some time to shrug off.
But it's all going in the right direction, and yesterday, I plucked up the courage to try on a pair of jeans which have been laughing in my face for the last ten months.
And they fit...
By the way, much as it galls me to say it, this is not the husband...