Viking Ball

Last night we went to what has become known as the Viking Ball. Organised by the Shetland Society of Wellington, the Viking Ball is an annual event which has been running for 38 years and celebrates the heritage of migrants from the Shetland Islands. It features two bands: Highland Country are a folk duo who play for the Scottish country dancing. This year's 'alternative' band were Itchycoo Park, who dished out numerous servings of 60s and 70s music for regular dancing.

I got to wear the dress again; I guess I can call it a déjà vu dress now, as it's been seen before. The ball starts with a hearty buffet meal and is followed by the Viking parade (basically a bunch of grown men dressed in sheepskin rugs, ugg boots, and seagull helmets, attemtping to woo and protect their women with their universal chant: "Uhhhhhh!"). Then the dancing begins.

The ceilidh dances were lots of fun to work out. I managed to remember the American Gay Gordons, where we all swap partners. We worked out the St Bernard's Waltz, then had a go at fumbling out way through a strip the willow with an incredibly patient group of six other dancers, all of whom seemed to know what they should be doing and who they should be dancing with next. (We apologised profusely for making their group formations go astray. Thankfully, they were all still smiling!) Later on, there was the Scottish version of the Gay Gordon, staying with the same partner but moving in a large circle around the room. Plenty of other dances followed, and we joined in with various degrees of success.

Occasions like this are made even more special when a group of friends get to together to dress up in black tie and enjoy dancing the night away. I am still organising our photos, ready for their migration to Facebook.

Dancing the night away

Last Sunday night, we went to the ball. It's taken me a while to blog about this, but I thought that an event like this needed time to get it right. I had bought the dress, planned my afternoon so we would make it in time for pre-ball drinks at The Brewery next door, and then we were ready. The theme was A Night at the Oscars and the venue was Te Papa, overlooking Wellington's waterfront.

What a night. There's something really special about getting dressed up to the nines and having a night out with friends. The food was pretty good this year, with a selection of lamb, chicken, and venison dishes and salads, then tiramisu for dessert. Being a dance event, it was so lovely to have continuous music and a big dance floor which was constantly full.

Now, I am about to solve one of life's mysteries. Men have long asked the question to which there is apparently no answer: "why do women go to the bathroom in groups?". Well, guys, although we ladies lead you to believe otherwise, there is an answer and, luckily for you, today I am going to break the code of silence and share it. The reason women go to the bathroom in groups is because there is a mega help centre there, and I used it on the night of the ball. I was in the midst of a Bad Hair Night and set off to see if I could remedy it. As I stood in front of the mirror randomly pulling out hair clips and wondering what to do with the resulting mess (and no hair products available), an angel spoke to me. "How about a French twist?" she said. "I don't know how to do one," I replied. Before I knew it, the angel had my hair clips in her hands and her fingers performed a miracle; within 30 seconds I had a stunning French twist. Voila!

We danced the night away and afterwards ended up listening to a jazzed up Irish band from Brisbane playing at Hummingbird until 2am. Thankfully, the next day (Monday) was Labour Day so we could sleep in and take it easy. This was a goal I was really excited about and looking forward to for a while: #29 - Dance at a formal ball.

Ultimate watermelons

One of the all-time most girlie movies ever, which has also stood the test of time in a certain generation's hearts, has got to be Dirty Dancing (1987). It has everything a girl wants. And what's not to like about it? A hunky lead, rebellious dancers, 1960s setting, 'coming-of-age' dramas, a scandalous affair, romantic water scenes, a killer soundtrack, the girl next door getting her daring man, and one of the 15 worst movie lines ever. Don't believe me? Try saying "I carried a watermelon" to anyone and you'll see what I mean. Dirty Dancing is the way to every girl's heart, and smart guys know this. I made my sweetie watch it a while back. He says it was boring, but I think secretly he liked it. Go on, admit it. It certainly scored him some brownie points. ;-)

So now to the soundtrack ... I love it. All of it. Even the bad bits. A huge range of music from the early 1960s along with some 80s tracks and a few random ballroom/Latin dance pieces thrown in. I've played "(I've Had) The Time of My Life" in bands for years, but strangely enough still love it. I've boogied away to the awesome version of "Do You Love Me?" (by The Contours), cringed to the horrendous singing on "Love is Strange" (Sylvia and Mickey), and sobbed along to the saddest song in the world, Solomon Burke's "Cry To Me". Haven't we all?

So come on, girls, join in ...
When your baby leaves you all alone
And nobody calls you on the phone
Ah, don't you feel like crying?
Don't you feel like crying?
Well here I am my honey
Oh, come on you cry to me...

Well, nothing could be sadder than a glass of wine all alone
Loneliness, loneliness, it's such a waste of time ...

Yup, "no-one puts Baby in a corner".

On the town

The silly season is in full swing. Last night, 20 of us went to dinner at The Lanes on Wakefield Street, a bowling alley for grownups. The meal was great. (I can highly recommend the pan-fried chicken breast on a creamy bacon and mushroom risotto.) Unfortunately, there was a muck-up with bookings which meant we wouldn't be able to bowl until at least 10:30 pm, so Plan B saw us all traipse around the corner to a pool hall.

Which brings me to my next point: playing pool. I quite openly admit that I suck at pool. I'm so bad it's embarrassing, not just for me, but also for all those around me, and especially for whichever poor person gets stuck as my partner. So, with that in mind, and hoping to slink off behind a shadowy table and not be noticed, I thought I'd get away with not playing. No such luck. I was paired with the loveliest guy ever, who truly didn't know what he was letting himself in for, yet always made me felt he was laughing with me (and not at me) every time I failed to hit the ball I was aiming for, and truly celebrated any time I hit one of our balls - even if it didn't go far or in the direction it was supposed to. (You must remember that I was playing a certain strategy: hit a ball, any ball, as long as it is ours and not black.) So, when I managed to sink one ... well, there were cheers all round!

After that traumatic experience, I needed something to help me recover. Thankfully, we danced the night away to endless cheesy 80s music at the Sports Café . Now there's something I'm good at! :-D