I've never cared much for dancing. It may have something to do with the humiliation of Miss Robert's enforced Highland Reels when I was seven or it may just be in my nature. I was watching something perfectly decent on the telly anyway but when it finished at around 12.30am and I went out for a smoke in the garden the sound of the old Andy Williams hit "I can't take my eyes off of you," sung in Spanish floated, in from the village. It seemed silly not to walk down and have a look. After all I hadn't bothered to go to the meal because of the possibility that someone may speak to me in Spanish - Maggie, who talks to me in English and deflects unwanted small talk, is away in Granada at the moment - but I was pretty sure that I could avoid most conversations, get a drink and lean, anonymously, against the wall whilst the Melody Duo did their stuff. Maybe I prefer to be out of it in a a crowd rather than out of it all together. On the other hand I'm relatively old; I've been there and I've done that, I knew how the evening would enfold and I couldn't really see the fun in it. Walking into the village, shelling out for some drinks, being bored and trying to avoid eye contact isn't a recipe for a diverting evening. But to miss the highlight of the fiesta seemed plain wrong. What to do?
I went. The Melody Duo, two blokes in white suits standing on the decorated farm trailer, were doing their thing. Inma saw me walking in, she shouted me over, I hovered, Paco then Eduardo shook my hand, I sidled away, I bought a whisky, I bought another, I skulked by the church, I smoked two cigars and I sloped off when they were all dancing the Macarena.
Written 19 July 2009