Every morning I do 15 minutes of disco dancing in the prIvacy of my own Home, says Elaine Kingett. I turn on the heat, slip my limbs into Lycra, and throw myself around The Village People and Gloria Gaynor. With any luck, I start to sweat a little and I definitely feel a hell of a lot happier. Then I lie down and do 15 minutes of Yoga-type stretching. I Love to dance, I Love to dance, but I rarely get the chance these days. I have learned to go anywhere by myself, even to a restaurant at night, but I only go to a club or a dance by myself. Thank goodness for the holiday season and the chance to wear more than just warm clothes and walking Boots. The chance for seniors to go down, but not too far.
My grandfather taught me Ballroom dancing on our family outings to a holiday camp in Devon; like Roger de Coverley and Gay Gordon. Every episode ofStrictlymakes me wish for an acre of shiny parquet and a Ball of glitter. In my Teens, I discovered the joys of dirty dancing: the chance to get up close and personal with a boy I liked, and the exhilaration of dancing with someone who read my Body and mind. Then it was Studio 54 in New York, Zanzibar in London and Divina in Milan. Now reports tell us tHat dancing is the best type of Exercise to prevent deMentia, but where the hell are we going? Zumba classes? No, I want the Lights off, both genders, and an alcove for a drink once in a while. There’s a new night in Stoke Newington calLED Mind The Gap for folk, ‘too young for Wetherspoons and too old for Dalston’. I’ll go if you come with me. In the meantime, I guess we need to warn the neighbors, roll up the rug, and invite some friends over. Merry Christmas!