This Time It's Personal!

by Carol Elsbury (Photos mostly by Steve Elsbury)

Carol's story of her first Nationwide Qualifying event.  Told in four chapters - Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 

Chapter 1 - Qualifiers?!?!

“So,” said Paula, with that ‘throw away’ air I have come to expect when  she imparts news likely to send me into a spin, “I have entered you for the Blackpool Qualifiers ~ if you don’t get through it will be good experience for next year….” and quite deliberately left before I fell to the floor jibbering.  Dance at Blackpool? Even attempt to qualify to dance at Blackpool? I had come out into a cold sweat the year we went to support the rest of the club just walking over the floor… I say floor – it was more like a wooden field!  Then I realised the chances of me actually qualifying were fairly remote so “all” it would mean would be to learn four new routines and be partnered with “bigger boys”.  I have to clarify what I mean by bigger boys here ~ Steve and I refer to the people who can really dance as “bigger boys” ~ it is no reflection on their size just their stature on the dance floor. “I’ll think about it….” I murmured to Paula’s retreating back.  I would have thought about it a lot longer if I had realised the dances involved were the foxtrot, tango, jive and cha cha but hey, I hadn’t committed to anything….

It will come as no surprise to learn that the following lesson we began by learning our new “qualifying” routines!  (In total fairness, if any of our teachers are reading this, this is the only way to deal with me or I would still be faffing about deciding if I could ever enter any competition as my feelings about these are well documented…..!)  The procedure was Steve and I would begin to learn the routines together and then split off to have lessons on our own with the poor beggars who had been gifted us as potential partners. At the risk of sounding like a repeating record, and aware that some people may think my lack of confidence is a way to elicit reassurance from others in a vaguely calculated and nasty way, I promise you I began this journey feeling like a complete impostor.  It seemed somehow wrong to be attempting this when I was all too aware of my shortcomings ~ sort of cheeky is the only way to explain it.  I was, however, soon to be told that my attitude had to change ~ and in no uncertain terms!

Steve and I made our usual attempt at grasping the new routines, with varying degrees of success, failure and uncontrollable laughter ~ and the very occasional snarl between gritted teeth. We had, however, been warned about the likelihood of the snarling increasing once we had danced with other people.  Rubbish.  We were happiest dancing with each other; we knew our weaknesses and how to jolly each other along (warm little endearments like “If you don’t stop sulking you can dance on your own” or “Don’t fling me around” followed by “I wouldn’t have to if you got there yourself….”) ~ those little moments shared by dance partners everywhere!  Having said that, I noticed that Steve seemed far less bothered by the prospect of a new partner than I did.  Looking coldly at the facts, he was faced with the proposition of dancing with a partner half my age, considerably less than half my weight and, let’s be honest, far more suited to wearing sections of sequins held together with bits of dust topped off with make-up to die for rather than to fill in the cracks.  The chances that they would hang on to him in some kind of fear induced death-grip and rip his head off for standing in the wrong kind of way before taking to the floor were also fairly slim so I am sure I heard a faint kind of “Yippee!” in his head as he slept that night.

Continued...