The Dancers

Dance class again last night.  A new instructor, in her twenties: picture Bambi made human, female, and Latin. Technically excellent, I like her strategy, but she talks a little too much.  Afterwards, we went downstairs to the bar, and practiced our own routines: definite improvement already.  I’m enjoying it, particularly, the first few combinations.

Later, we sat out a few dances, and, like everyone else in the bar, watched the floor, which was empty except for a couple we had never seen before. Both were slim and very tall - six foot six or more. He wore a pale suit, and she a velvety-black one-piece that appeared at first to be an evening dress, but in fact had very baggy trouser legs.  Dancing mostly with eyes shut, they moved in perfect sympathy and with great flair: even a simple walk became extraordinary with their embellishments.  

Usually, they stayed in close embrace, heads inclined together. She would stroke his neck very lightly, and smile as he led her into extraordinary figures.  Still with eyes closed, he would smile back as she followed him perfectly; without hesitation.  Sometimes, they would improvise… magical, beautiful.

Spring...

...has sprung. We spent the weekend in the country, visiting my parents. The seasons are definitely changing, although winter isn't giving up without a fight - there was fresh snow on the hills over the weekend, and a thick frost last night (althought it didn't survive the dawn).
Daffodils everywhere now. For some reason, foxes seem to be especially active - we saw two on the drive to my parents house, where Mum spotted another strolling through the garden. I'm looking forward to summer (which, for us, is not very far away now at all - tickets have arrived, vaccinations have been performed, anti-malarials stockpiled).

Day-break

Recently, we’ve had a cold snap: cold air from the arctic has chased away most of the clouds and rain, leaving us with clear skies and hard frosts. On my daily commute to The City, I’m constantly distracted by the icy wonderland around me. One morning last week, I simply surrendered to beauty, and stopped on the hard shoulder. For five minutes or so, I stood and enjoyed the dawn – the above panorama (crudely stitched by means of The Gimp) really doesn’t do it justice. The sun now rises nearly as early as I do - summer is very much on its way.

‘What is this life if, full of care, / We have no time to stand and stare?’
- W.H. Davies

Brokeback Mountain

...is well worth a visit. Miss C and I went on Friday night. Miss C did not like it - she found it dull, think - but, reader, this is a good film, very romantic, albeit tragic. What particularly impressed me was it was very easy to forget that they were a gay couple. Both the leads were excellent. Brokeback mountain itself was a heart-achingly beautiful backdrop. I wonder where it is? Me and a few million other cinema-goers.

Finally: spare a thought for all the non-fictional lovers out there who find their love menaced by non-celluloid bigotry.

A picture is worth...

...about 8 minutes of my time. But I'm getting faster.

Domestic Interlude

We spent the weekend at home, but not at leisure, Getting Things Done. The seasons are changing – buds on trees, lengthening evenings and brighter mornings. Unseasonably warm sunshine flooded into kitchen through the glass door from the walled garden, throwing my work into sharp relief as I sat painting roses in pairs, crossed: metallic gold on red paper (frontispieces for wedding invitations). In front of the glass door leading into the walled garden, Miss C sat and practiced on her guitar. We took a break together, and circled the tiles in synchrony; sublime music, tangos and waltzes.

Valentine’s Day

Dinner together at home; then, very sharply dressed in black and white relieved only by the ruby richness of Miss C’s necklace, we returned to The City. In the House of Poets, we heard a song for a madman played on a very strange guitar by a wiry old fellow with warm eyes, wild hair and fingers that moved in a blur upon the frets. His accompanist, on the piano, was a little younger but totally bald, with strange and piercing eyes. Then, we danced in subtle rhythms to an exotic beat. Fun.