|I'm feelin' those dancin' feet...!|
I love a good wedding. My husband does not. And I can understand his point of view. Most weddings can be broken up into four sections:
1.)The arrival of the guests to the church, the polite hellos and then the slightly awkward hovering amongst the graves outside as the photographer catches those 'spontaneous' exit moments over and over again.
2.)The reception arrival where you find yourself stuck talking to old Uncle George (Is he really an uncle?) for a great deal longer than charity requires whilst desperately trying to catch the eye of the drink tray waiter.
3.)The lunch/dinner. Because quite frankly you haven't eaten since 8.30 this morning and with the consumption of four or five half drunk, put down and then lost, glasses of warm champagne, you are starting to feel the cravings for some substantial carbohydrate action. The food is then mediocre at best and the opportunity to focus on the body' desire to shovel it in are lost, amidst the wishy-washy chunterings of your never met before and hopefully not to meet again seating companion. Then the speeches (entertainment?!) are thrown in to break up the courses, where you find yourself showing your age by politely laughing at some laboured, nervous, drunken speeches before...
4.) the music gets going! and hopefully you might get some disco moves in if the hired band don't forget that playing ALL of Dire Straits back catalogue is really not necessary.
So as I say, I get it. Weddings are often formulaic old things that can be easily refused with a simple hand written reply but...I love them! And I love to shimmy!
Therefore this summer we will be crossing the country for another disco opportunity and as I crash around on the 6ft x 10ft dance floor, trying to avoid the desperate gaze of my husband (whose exiting strategy has become a swift and famously honed art), I will be hoping to hear some of my favourite tunes, both old and new, that have had my four merry men and me bustin' our moves in the chaos of a post-tea explosion most evenings over these last few years. I'm sorry boss-man but when a woman' gotta dance a wedding' what she needs.
Here are three of the teatime crews' favourite tunes this week:
Caspar' rendition of PJ Harvey' The Words That Maketh Murder
(sorry this might need some neck spazzing. hoping it might enhance your enjoyment though!)
Oscar' interpretation (?!) of Joan as Policewoman' The Magic
Leo and Oscar largin' it to Ronson and Boy George' Somebody To Love Me