You must have had at least one? Embarrassing moment? I’ve had many but the one that really sticks in my mind is when I wasabout 10 years old, maybe even a little younger. The memory is probably inspired by the return of Strictly Come Dancing to our screens, of which I’m a huge fan! You should see me spinning a few turns in our tiny casa… grabbing hold of a reluctant Simon and telling him to shake his stuff.
But I digress. I used to attend dancing classes at the Civic Hall in Nantwich. They were held every Saturday morning and I used to go crazy with excitement the night before, hardly able to sleep in anticipation of my class. We learnt all kinds of dances and I was so in awe of the teachers. My enthusiasm was encouraged by my Dad, who loved to dance, and he would often come to watch. Well, I’d like to think he did.
Anyway, regular competitions were held, for adults and children, you know like the predecessor to Strictly, known as Come Dancing. I was chosen to compete with my Dad in the Foxtrot. The song was ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree’ by Dawn, a tune which still whisks me down memory lane whenever I hear it. Mum made me a dress, bought me new ankle socks and silver dancing shoes and arranged my hair in a knot on top of my head secured with her beloved string of pearls. Things couldn’t have been better in my life at that moment.
Until the time for the dance, with Dad beaming, leading me on to the floor with the other participants and I stumbled in my unfamiliar footwear and fell. Shock! Horror! I always had been a clumsy child, something which has never really left me. I should have known with my previous experience at ballet classes where I resembled a baby elephant on stilts. As I fell, the string of pearls caught on a chair and ripped from my hair. The tiny cream-coloured balls skittered onto the highly polished floor.I lifted my head to see everyone looking at me with that ‘oh what a shame‘ kind of look. I didn’t pluck up the courage to do the dance with Dad until after the competition had ended and most people had gone home, such was my shame.
Much later on, I would use another, more positive, experience with dancing to write a short story, which was published in a popular woman’s magazine. So the embarrassment didn’t stop me. As it shouldn’t.
However, what I wouldn’t give to dance with my father again…
So come on fess up – what’s your most embarrassing moment and have you let it go yet?