Last week there was a fundraiser disco for the town twinning association, a cause we like to support. They've developed links with some hamlet in France, which can only be a good thing. Anyway, it sounded like a evening the kids would enjoy, so we signed up. It was in the village hall, which echoes like a cave.
The first hour was deathly boring. The low-volume music was drowned out by the chatter, thus providing background noise, but not entertainment. I couldn't hear Mr Spanner talking to me clearly through the din, and the kids went and played in the park over the road - even the teenagers.
Eventually, we got a sausage-in-a-bun each and a can of fizzy pop, the tables were pushed back and the disco started for real. The teenagers were slightly embarrassed about dancing in front of all these grown-ups, but they soon found a group their own age to hang against the wall with. The younger three took the opportunity to fling themselves wildly through each others' legs and knee-slide across the dance floor, followed by jumping energetically in a vaguely rhythmic manner.
To paraphrase Four Weddings: When I first saw Mr Spanner on the dance floor, I feared lives would be lost. He dances with a a disregard for those that venture too close. It's like watching Pinocchio on amphetamines. However he was dancing, and given how hard it is to get him to join in with things, this was a real plus. We stayed on the dance floor all evening and it was fun.
I guess we need to go dancing more often.