Saturday, October 15, 2016

Oldies meet weekly

I am part of a small group of friends who go back many years.   There are seven of us left including two widows and me, a widower.   We meet weekly on a Friday for several hours of laughs. stories and reminiscences, mixed with good food, wine and genuine friendship.

Yesterday we were talking about dancing and it reminded me of my first experience at learning to dance.  It happened when I was about 12 years of age and visiting my grandparents’ farm 130 miles from our house near Fremantle, Western Australia.    I was taken to a dance in a hall near a small railway siding where I watched, mainly women, dancing the progressive Barn Dance.  Most of the men were outside the hall standing around a beer keg proceeding to get ’sozzled’ as it was called back then.  One very large woman grabbed me and joined the dance circle.  My face was held tight between her large breasts; my feet not even reaching the floor and I was spun around causing me to hold on tight; so tight that I pricked my palm on an open safety pin holding some part of her dress together.
I must have whimpered, because she let me go and I bolted for the relative safety of the mob around the Keg outside.  It took me some years before I did learn to dance.

From the rear, Carole and Dennis, 
Joy, Margaret, Wendy and me and in front sitting, Wendy’s husband Ralph.

Click on the photo to enlarge.....Pic taken using the Meryl Streep filter to smooth out facial lines.

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