The day after the ball, I felt fine. I did not harbour the dread that follows a night of self-abasement. Still, the picture of my pasty visage was a giveaway. I had shamed myself. The newsletter was quarterly so I would have to endure its presence in the canteen for some time. I could destroy every copy but they would only be replenished by a keen intern.
I attend a weekly class at our local dancing school. The one with all the mummies in it trying to relive their youths and thinking they are cool. (We aren't, we know that, but we still have a lot of fun!) Anyway, this week the teacher was talking about her pet pugs and how if they were people they would make terrible dancers.
Festivals might not quite lead to a dancing plague, but there is a sense that anything can happen. Laura recalled the first year of Wilderness festival: "We ended up teaching hundreds of people the conga, on stage with a bunch of naked people. That has to be a professional first! But this is what we love about Wilderness, you never really know where the experience will take you."
Attempting to link pole fitness classes and societies with violence against women is both completely wrong and very dangerous. To blame violence against women by men on the actions of these women who choose to partake in pole fitness classes is effectively buying into the rape culture of passing blame onto women.
'Athletes' gave me the same feeling that I experienced decades ago when I first saw 2001, a film that no one could have been prepared for. This dance piece has the same feeling of coming to grips with mortality, fragility, of time passing, and infinity. Like Stanley Kubrick, you can feel this choreographer's utter dedication, his complete self-belief.