August, as always, is a quiet month on the Arts front for me and an opportunity to rediscover evenings at home with the family and catch-up with my over-ambitious repertoire development plans - so there’s not much “arts-related” content in this blog offering. That said, Mrs Edwards and I have been anything but lazy: We started the month attending a dance in Swindon organized by our lovely dance teacher, the ever-patient Anne Williams. Just when I’m beginning to get to grips with some of the basics, I discover to my despair that there are still dances out there I’ve never even heard of (what’s a “Queen of Hearts Rumba” or a “Sally Ann Cha Cha”?) I’d not come across a “Saunter Together” either – and don’t be fooled by the easy-sounding name – there’s a routine you need to know here if you are to avoid making a complete arse of yourself (not that that has ever bothered me).

Anyway, the undoubted highlight of this particular evening was the exhibition dance by Aimie Leake and Lawrence James, two youngsters who have been dancing together since April this year but who are already representing England in Youth Dance competitions across the UK and overseas. What can I say? They were stunningly good. I certainly won’t offer comment on their technique (the author has trouble telling a foxtrot from a waltz – even when trying to dance one!), but it was enough just to sit back and enjoy the spectacle. Young Lawrence (who I think is only 17) reminds me so much of myself when I was his age...good looking, agile, fit, athletic, full of confidence... actually no, come to think of it, that was someone else. My memory must be playing tricks on me again (like this morning when Mrs Edwards asked me to take the rubbish out.) These days I have to write notes to myself to make sure I remember to do things (but where did I put the notes?). I know it is only a matter of time before I pour orange juice on my cornflakes. The dancing though was fabulously charged with energy in a way that only the young can truly manage - exciting and sexy. At one point I actually caught myself wondering if it was okay to be indulging in such voyeuristic pleasures! If I was caught ogling, then Mrs Edwards’ unorthodox kung-fu move in the foxtrot that followed was fully justified – two “quicks” when I was expecting two “slows” almost resulted in a perfect martial arts throw!

Despite the excitement and the dancing, both my heart and my crunchy knees held out pretty well. But it was too good to last. Crawling around in my loft the next day looking for a wasps’ nest played havoc with my knees and I am now reduced to walking stiff-legged like Frankenstein’s monster until they recover. Just as well I didn’t need to make a quick getaway from marauding wasps. Which reminds me: just what IS the point of wasps? Was God having an off-day when he created wasps? The pest control officer who came out to deal with our wasp infestation gleefully told me that he’d never before seen a house with THREE wasps’ nests in such close proximity. The wasps have been a damn nuisance and even Tigerlily (one of our small hairy canines) got stung and protested so much I thought she was dying. (How can a small dog make such a hideous noise?) Anyway, the wasp population has now significantly reduced and Tigerlily has made a full recovery. She may even crawl out from underneath the cupboard some time next week.