Sunday, January 22, 2012

Six Year Olds Won't Go To Rebab

My fella's niece takes dance classes so last weekend we went over to St Helens to see her (and several hundred other people) performing at their local theatre. It was nice to see so many young people (all girls) involved in "the arts", rather than getting pregnant (which was the main hobby of the girls I went to school with), though it was a shame there were no boys involved. Billy Elliot is still very much the exception. Although towards the end, some of the Dads put on a (comedy) performance. They'd wisely put the little good-looking one front centre. And I'm ashasmed to say that that was my favourite bit.

Who'd be a parent these days - it's so expensive. As well as paying for the weekly classes, all the constumes (some quite complex) had to be paid for, and there were announcements banning photography and mobile phones during the performance, presumably so that professionally done photos could be purchased by family members afterwards. The man sitting next to me had his phone out and ushers asked him twice to turn it off - both times he just hid it under his coat for 10 seconds. (I considered it a personal triumph that I didn't scream "JUST TURN IT OFF!!" at him.) But worryingly, he did not return to his seat for the second half. Maybe the ushers decided to beat him up in the interval, or perhaps he'd had enough.

Whilst the performances were good, some of the song choices were slightly odd. Some of the youngest girls - aged I'm guessing about 6-7, did an Amy Winehouse tribute. This involved them all dressed as Amy Winehouse, complete with huge beehive wigs, and singing "They tried to make me go to rehab, I said 'no, no, no.'" Not exactly age-appropriate. Me and my fella had to restrain laughter during that number. We have been trying to think of good follow-ups for next time - perhaps they could do Sister Morphine or Frankie Says Relax.

There was also liberal (and unnecessary) use of dry ice - one unfortunate ballet dancer was positioned right next to the ice machine and every now and again during one number, a big gust of dry ice would emerge from between her legs, with the machine making a mocking parping sound. Again - we were both jamming our hands into mouths for that dance.

There was a group of older (40+) women who did a few dance numbers. My eldest sister-in-law, who was present, thought they were great and talked about joining them next year. That was until my fella (rather cruelly) referred to them as the Baby Janes. She's gone off the idea now.

I'm not sure we'll be invited back next year.

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