I don't even have an excuse this time. I forgot!
It was awesome on Monday night. A select few friends, beautiful silver shoes from my shopping trip, chatting and laughing and jokes. Tom never looked so handsome across the table. Amy twinkled in her new top and John and Peter threaded anacedotes through the conversation like beads on ribbons.
I didn't want to go home but bed called.
Tuesday saw ballroom with Tom after work in which we learnt the tango and the chacha. I could take or leave the chacha, a rumba with quick extra steps, but something about the tango really worked for Tom and I. The tension between the bodies and the moving the woman outside the man reminded me of dances past, and my kinaesthetic memory kicked in.
The scariest bit is always when we dance through the steps with the teacher, and she knows I'm a dancer, and she'll have a chat with me as we dance. I panic and think I'm going to forget the steps, but my feet always seem to know what they're doing.
Tonight I caught up with Sarah and she signed the convoluted pieces of paper I needed to prove I existed to get a bank account. She's a nurse and so could be classed as a professional certified person. I've not seen her for a very long time so it was nice to catch up. Then I went to SCM and listened to Bishop Paul of Southampton talk about contemporary envangelism. SCM being SCM there was plenty of debate after, and the playing games involving picking up card baord boxes with your teeth, but with out using your hands and keeping both feet on the floor. The box got less tall each time, and I managed to pick up a flat bit of card. Very pleased with my bendy self.
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