I pulled the gates closed and we headed for the nearby village of Sober. A bright full moon lit our way. Chirping cicadas and croaking frogs filled the warm night air. We’d arranged to meet some friends and
lend our support to the annual dancing competition.
lend our support to the annual dancing competition.
Ballroom dancing isn’t really my thing, although before Channel 4’s The Tube, there wasn’t much else to watch on late night telly: those were the days. I’d wander home from the pub, half-cut and hungry, switch on the TV and slump onto the settee.
An hour or so later I’d wake up, blurry-eyed and starving. By the time the fat had melted in the chip pan, I would have managed to slice a few spuds into something resembling chips and miraculously still have all my fingers attached.
By the time I returned to the lounge, Angela Rippon, host of the original Come Dancing show, would be
waiting for me. Everything about the show, and its competitors, seemed out of step with the times.
The venue was always a large ballroom, which in itself seemed like an historic paradox, with a full orchestra occupying one end of this mirror-balled palace.
The audience consisted of small groups of smartly dressed individuals sitting around ordered tables, sipping cocktails and smoking fags. As for the competitors, well, they were as far removed from human reality as it’s possible to be: nothing more than parody’s of genuineness. Comical characters hiding behind false smiles and fake tan.
Ironically, after hours of painstaking preparation and personal grooming, each competitor had to pin a flimsy piece of numbered paper to their back. They ended up looking like prized beef at a cattle auction.
Flimsy piece of paper aside, the competition in Sober was in stark contrast to that surreal show.
An hour or so later I’d wake up, blurry-eyed and starving. By the time the fat had melted in the chip pan, I would have managed to slice a few spuds into something resembling chips and miraculously still have all my fingers attached.
By the time I returned to the lounge, Angela Rippon, host of the original Come Dancing show, would be
waiting for me. Everything about the show, and its competitors, seemed out of step with the times.
The venue was always a large ballroom, which in itself seemed like an historic paradox, with a full orchestra occupying one end of this mirror-balled palace.
The audience consisted of small groups of smartly dressed individuals sitting around ordered tables, sipping cocktails and smoking fags. As for the competitors, well, they were as far removed from human reality as it’s possible to be: nothing more than parody’s of genuineness. Comical characters hiding behind false smiles and fake tan.
Ironically, after hours of painstaking preparation and personal grooming, each competitor had to pin a flimsy piece of numbered paper to their back. They ended up looking like prized beef at a cattle auction.
Flimsy piece of paper aside, the competition in Sober was in stark contrast to that surreal show.
As we made our way towards Plaza do Touran, in the heart of the village, a tuneful melody floated past on the night air. The renowned Sober youth orchestra was in full swing: an enthusiastic and talented group of musicians entertaining the small crowd.
Melanie and I spotted our friends and eight of us headed to Bar Marcelo for refreshments. Outside, the bar owner had provided free pancetta. The alluring aroma of pan fried bacon drifted through the crowd. Thick cut slices of fatty pancetta sizzled in an enormous frying pan.
A large basket of crusty bread, hacked into palm sized chunks, sat on a table next to the pan. We each chose a favourable chunk and moved across to the frying pan. One by one we picked a tasty slice of sizzling pancetta. Armed with a tasty nibble and a cool drink, we wandered back to the square.
The plaza is enclosed on three sides by a three step amphitheatre. A crowd of about 100 people, some sitting and others just standing around, watched 20 or so couples tripping the light fantastic. Actually, most of them were tripping over each other.
During a pause in the music, competitors were handed a flimsy piece of numbered paper and the audience a score card: viewer voting at its purist. As expected the most proficient couple didn’t even feature in the top three, it wasn’t that kind of contest. The top three were local favourites,
chosen for their popularity rather than their dancing prowess.
To rousing applause and cheers of bravo, the mayor presented the winning couple with their prize: dinner for two at the local restaurant.
A competition it might have been; but strictly not Come Dancing.
*******************************************************************************************************************************
Experience the dream –sample the sights, sounds and tastes of Galicia. For details about our luxury farmhouse rental visit http://www.getaway-galicia.com
Craig’s book, Journey To A Dream, is available exclusively from Amazon, follow this link for your national store. http://bit.ly/188lOj2
Visit Craig’s website at http://www.journeytoadream.co.uk
Or join in the fun on Facebook http://facebook.com/craigbriggs.spain
Melanie and I spotted our friends and eight of us headed to Bar Marcelo for refreshments. Outside, the bar owner had provided free pancetta. The alluring aroma of pan fried bacon drifted through the crowd. Thick cut slices of fatty pancetta sizzled in an enormous frying pan.
A large basket of crusty bread, hacked into palm sized chunks, sat on a table next to the pan. We each chose a favourable chunk and moved across to the frying pan. One by one we picked a tasty slice of sizzling pancetta. Armed with a tasty nibble and a cool drink, we wandered back to the square.
The plaza is enclosed on three sides by a three step amphitheatre. A crowd of about 100 people, some sitting and others just standing around, watched 20 or so couples tripping the light fantastic. Actually, most of them were tripping over each other.
During a pause in the music, competitors were handed a flimsy piece of numbered paper and the audience a score card: viewer voting at its purist. As expected the most proficient couple didn’t even feature in the top three, it wasn’t that kind of contest. The top three were local favourites,
chosen for their popularity rather than their dancing prowess.
To rousing applause and cheers of bravo, the mayor presented the winning couple with their prize: dinner for two at the local restaurant.
A competition it might have been; but strictly not Come Dancing.
*******************************************************************************************************************************
Experience the dream –sample the sights, sounds and tastes of Galicia. For details about our luxury farmhouse rental visit http://www.getaway-galicia.com
Craig’s book, Journey To A Dream, is available exclusively from Amazon, follow this link for your national store. http://bit.ly/188lOj2
Visit Craig’s website at http://www.journeytoadream.co.uk
Or join in the fun on Facebook http://facebook.com/craigbriggs.spain
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