springs

Are we born springy? And if not, is it something we can learn to become? And, failing that, given the continuing development of technology and scope for internet shopping, could I order springs online? Those were the thoughts milling through my head at today's Zumba dance class. Certain biro pens require springs to operate, staplers do, so do mattresses. Zumba dancing is easier with springy motions. Once upon a time I attended ceroc jiving classes at my tennis club (yeah, people generally confine their activities to tennis at tennis clubs, but a French guy joined, so what chance did we have?) Well, when I saw this guy dance I fell for men with bendy knees. What a selling point.


Zumba, as I've blogged about before, doesn't require precision, or grace. To benefit from it, all you need do is keep moving. I'm less embarrassed by my presence there now than before, but I still keep coming up with descriptions of my efforts compared to those nymphs around me. Certainly spring-less. Fortunately I can laugh at myself.

I consoled myself with the thought that even if I can't write uniquely, I can probably dance uniquely. There has to be someone turning to the left, when the others choose the right. Someone who manages two spins to the four of the rest. Co-ordinating arm movements with leg ones demands more skills than I currently have, and would doubtless be more easily achieved if I stopped ruminating over my unspringiness.



Unspringily yours

Jane