Dr Toothbrush, or How I Learned to Stop Dancing and Stab my Own Face

My sincerest apologies, dear readers, for not starting out the next hundred historical posts of our wonderful blog on something more interesting, but I've had a rather busy week so the best I can do is give you one of them there life updates what the kids like doing nowadays. Here go:

Swing

If you don't already know, I took up swing dancing last year. That's the one with all the spinning and big bands and the like. Speakeasies, flapper dresses, other 20's malarky. 

This, but with more dancing and less social commentary/Jay-Z.

The past weekend was the first dancing workshop of the year by our swing society and it was the most hectic two days ever. I got about a total of 8 hours sleep between over 15 hours of shaking ma thang like it ain't nobody's business; and that doesn't include the dinners and drinks with the lovely people I was hosting for the event either. Swinging takes up a lot of time it seems. Also haha, yes, it's the same as that sex thing people do in car parks; we get jokes about it every event and I'm tired of it! Yes, we dance. Yes, we share partners in caravan parks. So what?

If ever there was a reason to learn Balboa...

Sadly the photos of my dapper outfits and epic swing-outs are yet to be posted by our resident photographer, but I'll be sure to update the post when they do finally surface. If you're interested in picking up some swing dancing yourself, look around your local area for a club or, alternatively, throw on some Glenn Miller and just get bouncing. Also I recommend you have a look at the legends of Lindy, Shorty George and Frankie Manning, and spend the rest of your night despairing at the fact that you'll never be as good as them.