On Saturday, I did something I’ve been meaning to do since last year. I (sort of) learnt to Charleston.
Last year, I learnt to jive (a bit), which I had to give up due to pregnancy. I wasn’t terribly good, but I was enthusiastic! It was great fun and I’d been looking forward to trying a bit of dance once D was born. I’ve always loved the fun, frantic image of flappers dancing the Charleston and, although considerably fatter than the girls who were on never ending diets in the 1920s, I fancied having a go. The Charleston was also good as we were being taught solo-Charleston, meaning that I could leave D with his dad (who isn’t really a dancer..)
So, I found myself in The Good Companions pub in Brighton on a soggy Saturday trying to master moves such as ‘The Shout’, ‘The Itch’ and ‘The Mess Around’. What was interesting was I was able to get the footwork for the 1920′s Charleston, which is a bit more complex than the 30′s version, which although a bit more straighforward, I couldn’t get right for the life of me! Instead of being fun and carefree, I was doing my classic ‘poke-my-tongue-out-while-concentrating’ move. No matter. I loved every second, although I found that I could do the moves for a short burst and then I would forget them. I’m not sure if that’s baby brain or not, but it’s not bad for someone who gave birth eleven weeks ago, I reckon. I mean, this schizz is EXHAUSTING. But in a good way!
I did make sure I hid at the back though, as the routine was being filmed. I couldn’t do it as fast as everyone else! Once D starts settling into a night-time routine, I’ll be going to the same pub to learn the lindy hop, which has moves based on the Charleston. Until then, I’ll be practising in the kitchen with the baby strapped to me. It’s fun and educational for him, obviously.