As Mad Ron barked out his instructions, all one hundred young heads turned rigidly to the floor, there to observe the gangling progress of the feet which so recently had seemed to be under our control but which now followed their own agenda. 1-2-3, 1-2-3, right-left-together, left-right-together... As if I wasn't having enough trouble, Ranshaw was supposed to be translating each instruction into its opposite - a task that proved mentally and physically impossible. As an extra job for us boys, Mad Ron ordered us to look up occasionally and steer. This led only to my catching Hopkins' eye as he endeavoured to see beyond DK's much taller shoulders. Seeing me, he lost all control and the two of them, who had been veering towards the wall for some time, clattered first into the bench and then to the ground.
This was too much for Mad Ron. He barked at Mrs B, who brought Mantovani's strings to an abrupt halt. As one, we all extricated ourselves from our mutual grasps and stared at Hopkins and Kirkbride, who were by now both bright red, but at least once again on their feet.
'All right, I can see we've all got a long way to go before any of you grace the Pally di Dance. Now let's try something else...'
And so the afternoon dragged on through one disaster after another. The music changed, the steps changed, the partners changed, but it was all equally ghastly. With ten minutes to go to the final whistle, Mad Ron tried to summon up some belated enthusiasm.
'OK, let's just try the Waltz one more time." (Groans all round.) "But this time, something a little different. Imagine that the two lines Mrs Barnett is chalking across the middle of the floor are the banks of a river, and when each couple arrives at the line, the boy will naturally lift up his partner, carry her across the river, and then start dancing again on the other side.'
I saw nothing 'natural' in that. We looked at each other aghast... I noticed the girls were even aghaster than the boys. Ron had definitely flipped this time. My only consolation was that my current partner was Penny Morris, one of the smaller girls, and so I might stand a chance.
'Now, boys, find the partners you had the first time we tried the Waltz.' Oh no .... Ranshaw! Barnett, you 24-carat swine! Casting a baleful glance back at Little Miss Morris, I trundled through the confusion of bodies until I found The Big R. I noticed she hadn't been making any effort to find me and, being no Charles Atlas, I didn't blame her. I managed to position us just past the Chalk River, the further to delay the dread moment.
1-2-3, right-left-together, left-right-together... As if I wasn't having enough trouble, Ranshaw was supposed to be translating each instruction into its opposite - a task that proved mentally and physically impossible. As an extra job for us boys, Mad Ron ordered us to look up occasionally and steer. This led only to my catching Hopkins' eye as he endeavoured to see beyond DK's much taller shoulders. Seeing me, he lost all control and the two of them, who had been veering towards the wall for some time, clattered first into the bench and then to the ground.
This was too much for Mad Ron. He barked at Mrs B, who brought Mantovani's strings to an abrupt halt. As one, we all extricated ourselves from our mutual grasps and stared at Hopkins and Kirkbride, who were by now both bright red, but at least once again on their feet.
'All right, I can see we've all got a long way to go before any of you grace the Pally di Dance. Now let's try something else...'
And so the afternoon dragged on through one disaster after another. The music changed, the steps changed, the partners changed, but it was all equally ghastly. With ten minutes to go to the final whistle, Mad Ron tried to summon up some belated enthusiasm.
'OK, let's just try the Waltz one more time." (Groans all round.) "But this time, something a little different. Imagine that the two lines Mrs Barnett is chalking across the middle of the floor are the banks of a river, and when each couple arrives at the line, the boy will naturally lift up his partner, carry her across the river, and then start dancing again on the other side.'
I saw nothing 'natural' in that. We looked at each other aghast... I noticed the girls were even aghaster than the boys. Ron had definitely flipped this time. My only consolation was that my current partner was Penny Morris, one of the smaller girls, and so I might stand a chance.
'Now, boys, find the partners you had the first time we tried the Waltz.' Oh no .... Ranshaw! Barnett, you 24-carat swine! Casting a baleful glance back at Little Miss Morris, I trundled through the confusion of bodies until I found The Big R. I noticed she hadn't been making any effort to find me and, being no Charles Atlas, I didn't blame her. I managed to position us just past the Chalk River, the further to delay the dread moment.