Jazz hands

I’ve spent several long hours this weekend watching and chaperoning  a  show from my daughter’s dance school. From small cute Angelinas to top-heavy tutued teenagers on pointe, we had a lot of dancing. Ballet, modern, jazz … about 20 (yes, 20) dances in all, but only one tap routine. What has happened to this form of dance?  Why hasn’t the influence of Stomp et al reached Newton Abbot? There’s something so exciting about the sound of feet battering a floor. Something exhilarating. The rhythm of a line of hoofers all in step. A couple more of these tap routines would have got me through the weekend much more quickly.

As a kid I did twice-weekly dance lessons and many shows in some outrageous costumes. One of the higlights was a blackbird (along with 23 others) pirouetting out of a pie. And in a pantomime I  was actually a pie. (A mince pie, obviously, as it was Christmas.) Seeing these young dancers yesterday made me hanker after the old tap. So when a fellow dance mother told me she did adult lessons once a week, I recklessly said I’d go along. So not only am I now on the look-out for some 70s platforms, I also need to find some tap shoes. Shuffle, shuffle, ball change.


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