June

[Sweder]

There was a time in my life when spending the first few hours of a Sunday getting hot 'n' sweaty with several lustrous females was a misty-eyed dream, proof positive of a successful Saturday night. These days it means an early downland lumber with the hounds, and right hot 'n' sweaty it was. A weeks' worth of Amsterdam excess sought exodus from my wobbly corpulence, time constraints and lack of form reducing this outing to a modest 5k. Thank God I'd decided against joining the Sunday crew for a longer session - I'd most probably still be out there. Strong warm winds swept across the hilltops, heavy trees swaying mesmerically like seaweed in a strong tide. My track du jour slipped out of the ether to hammer home the bleedin' obvious; The Shape I'm In by The Band.

Having postponed Father's Day due to being away last weekend I elected to spend my day of choice watching my daughter compete in the Heart of the South Freestyle Dance Championships in Burgess Hill. I'd not committed to a full day's dance comp for almost a year so this was long overdue. As chance would have it I couldn't have picked a better day. Phoebe and her partner, in keeping with some of the teams still in Euro 2008, had a shocker first up and were fortunate to reach the knock-out stage. Like me my daughter rails against early starts and her mutinous body almost cost them a place in the Under 14's Pairs final, the heats starting at 9 o'clock sharp. When they scraped through by a whisker I gave them a good old-fashioned Kingston Kestrels two-nil-down-at-half-time team-talk along the lines of how darned lucky they were to still be in and to go out there and give it everything.

They didn't need further prompting, beating a strong field of five to carry off first place and win a place in the Champions final. Here they would compete against the winners of the U10's, U12's, U16's and over 16's, performing a carefully rehearsed spotlight routine before all couples took to the floor for the final round of judging. As they strode off the dancefloor, eyes sparkling, broad smiles gleaming, I leaned in to whisper 'well done; only one winner there'. And so it proved, the pair carrying off a pot that wouldn't look out of place at the Devilbowl. I almost burst with pride.

And that would have been rather unpleasant for the gathered great and good of the South of England freestyle dancing community as there's quite a lot of me to go around.
I'll set to the task of lard-lathing this week.