Have been persuaded by Aussie next door neighbour to attempt to recapture my girlish grace and attend adult ballet classes. The problems with this are numerous but firstly and most importantly I am not sure that I ever had any girlish grace. But nothing attempted – nothing gained so Wednesday evening found me in a cold church hall wearing 80’s style dance kit (my own attempt at dressing for The Dance a la FAME academy) stone cold sober and limbering up with 12 other ladies of Bath not one of whom looked as if she had ever graced the stage. Plies with accompanying knee cracks that I am sure have never been heard at Royal Ballet school were followed by jumping – there is a lovely word in French for the balletic leaps that we were attempting but this class has no right to use it. It was deafening. The instructor gamely smiling, clutched the CD player in a desperate and hopeless attempt stop the disc from jumping along with us. Warm up complete, now was the time to attempt to reconstruct an actual dance! As we skipped and leapt with all the grace of delusional heffalumps I was irresistibly reminded of the old St Trinians School inspectors who danced to forget: to the same music. The teacher clearly also wanted to forget. Never Again.
School Sports day was enlivened this year by a rather too relevant local celebrity. Jason Gardener winner of a Gold Olympic Medal in some sort of running race has children at the school. This added piquancy to the daddy’s race. It was entertaining to watch the fathers’ line up all keen and hopping from one foot to the other, in a manner that rather emphasised why they only did this once a year, when the ripple went down the line. Jason had taken his place quietly in the first heat – this prompted an exodus from the starting line up as the daddies who had noticed tried to unobtrusively slip into the line behind and therefore the next race: Any race but this one. They needn’t have feared. The brave souls who accepted the challenge were given a large head start by the Bath Bullet who manfully tripped on the starting line and crashed to the ground – only then to pick himself up once the rest of the field had got half way and overtake at such speed as to make us blink so we missed it. Olympic tracks are probably rather better designed than the school one though, Jason was going so fast that he failed to stop and ran into a tree at the end of the pitch. Still mild concussion only small price to pay for the father’s race medal.