Strictly Fit

Yesterday I decided to try out a ‘Strictly Fit’ dance class in conjunction with the BBC programme. The poster promised a shimmering disco ball and glamorous dancers. No such luck in my case – just a run-down dance hall in Bow and four pretty eccentric people. The class was hosted by a beaming blonde lady who I can’t recall her name, but let’s just say her name was Mandy.
Mandy was small, petite and blonde and never stopped smiling. She taught the class alongside a handsome Latin-American guy called Gustavo who ended up being my dance partner -embarrassing to say the least. The rest of my class consisted of a pretty bonkers but very nice couple, and two middle-aged East-end ladies who cracked endless jokes and made sexual innuendos about everything.
We stood around for a few moments whilst Mandy got the music sorted and took down our names. I chatted to the couple who seemed to be having a pretty serious, but passive aggressive row in my presence. She told me she was from Australia and was sick to death of London and was moving home next year. ‘On your own,’ I asked, still trying to figure out if they were a couple or cousins or something. ‘well maybe,’ she replied. ‘I’m going whether he comes or not. I hate it here’. Her poor boyfriend / husband or possible cousin just stood there shuffling his feet and looking embarrassed. ‘Oh well,’ I said awkwardly, ‘maybe we should find a space’.
So the class went ahead and we cha cha cha’d for at least an hour, where I stepped on the teacher’s feet about a dozen times and worked up a slight sweat – Mandy on the other hand made it look completely effortless and we all looked like uncoordinated idiots in comparison. I’m not sure if ballroom dancing is really my area but I enjoyed the fun if not rather odd experience.