I went to a wedding recently. It was a lovely day, the bride looked stunning, the ceremony was touching and the company was outstanding. Really wonderful. It was in Edinburgh and brilliantly, in the middle of the reception, the Celidh music started up and everyone got up to dance. I stumbled my way through the ‘Gay Gordons’, I was slightly hindered by the fact that I was wearing a strapless dress and was aware that it was working it’s way down to reveal my bra and working it’s way up to reveal my spanx. As pretty much all the dance is spent with your arms above your head it is hard to get a moment to rearrange your dress. I sat out the ‘Dashing White Sergent’ and ‘Strip the
Willow’ and I think that
was wise. My co-ordination is not the strongest and I could see my partner
starting to think I had issues when I couldn’t remember the three moves to the
I used to go to Celidhs at University. Back then I always wore trainers and pretty much relied upon just getting flung about and being drunk. The next day there would always be some kind of dance related injury. I would like to stress that the wedding was far more civilised and no one was thrown off the dance floor and in to a crowd of people. But everyone (save the English) knew the moves and everyone joined in. It was lovely.
…and not something you get an English weddings. I think we’d all be pretty disconcerted if at somepoint in the proceedings a maypole was broken out and everyone was given a hanky and we all broke in to some English country dancing. This makes me sad.
If you fancy a dull challenge, ask someone to name an English Country Dance move other than the ‘dosey doh’. I don’t even know if that’s how you spell it. Perhaps it’s that traditional English dancing involves too many props. Hankies and sticks and special bell straps that you tie above the knees. You also seem to have to wear an all white ensemble and as we all know, only the bride should wear white at a wedding. It would also mean picking a wedding venue based on where you could comfortably situate a ten foot pole with a load of ribbons hanging off it.
I did country dancing at Primary school and I just remember being terrified that the pole was going to topple over and kill us all. Then we skipped around tying ribbons in to knots, then dropped the ribbons and walked off. Never to communally dance again until the school discos kicked in and we could shuffle around to Rick Astley whilst drinking a panda pop.
We’re missing out. Let’s start a dance troop. Let’s storm
Britain’s Got Talent.
Let’s make leaping around to fluglehorns whilst trashed on cider the new Ibiza. We can do it.
Alternatively – go to more weddings in Scotland.