Wednesday, 3 February 2016

I like to move it move it

I went for a gym run last week, I didn't fancy their tunes, so I cranked my favourite iTunes album on - Ministry of Sound Anthems 90.  427 minutes of pure joy. Well, probably 400, there are a few duffers in there (King of My Castle, Ebeneezer Goode and Don't Call Me Baby, if you're asking). I had to have it loud to drown out the perma-playlist (and the sound of my heavy breathing).  and it was exhilarating. Although my feet were pounding a mechanical pavement, my head was in various 90s local hotspots...Ferraris...Paradox...Reds...Some of the songs actually made me run faster and I had to speed the treadmill up.  My speed songs seem to be:

  • Things Can Only Get Better by D’ream
  • Son of a Gun by JX
  • U Sure Do by Strike

Feel free to sing as you’re reading now…

Then I got in the car, where my radio was set to Radio 1, and there was some kind of old and new mash-up going on.  I should admit that Radio 1 is at Daughter's insistence, having decided that Radio 2 (I slipped there gradually over the years...) is for old people and I should have the station that Granddad has on.  You know, her 69 year old grandfather, who clearly pumps out the best choons on the school run.  She was very keen to distinguish which Granddad, as maternal Granddad listens to a local show that she has actually been on, so there's no moving the dial on that one.  When I asked Father in Law what station he had on, he replied it was 'just' Radio 1, thus revealing himself as some kind of secret hipster.  I'm monitoring him for growing a beard like the young ones do.  I'll have to say something if he tries a man-bun.  Particularly with him being bald…Anyway, loud music, post run high, I was car-seat dancing all the way home. And it got me to thinking; where is the post 30s mummy to shake her thang?


We danced on our Christmas night out.  We waved our hands in the air like we just didn't care.  We did the dance-walk to the dance floor.  We danced and sang to club classics of our day, in a hotel function room that had been converted from one of our main stomping grounds when these songs were out.  And to be honest, it wasn't much of a conversion.  But since then, nothing.  Not a shimmy, not a shake.  Because post thirties working motherhood doesn't leave a lot of time for dancing.  And even if it did, we don't know where to go.  Where are the clubs?  We don't want to be starting our nights out at midnight.  Someone will start mentioning ringing a taxi around then.  But even if we had the stamina, we can't be rocking up and shaking our stuff with the young ones to remixes of songs that were ours first time round.  What if we slip up with the words now they’ve been remixed?  It’s too risky. 

Maybe I’ve hit on the business idea that will free me from my daily grind.  Mum dance parties!  They could be based on those under 18’s discos that nightclubs used to do in the old days before 14 year olds looked old enough to actually get into nightclubs like they do now.  We could actually hire nightclubs, we’d be in and out before the actual clubbers wanted to come in.  Early start, maybe around 8:30pm, big ‘ol dance floor, limited bar (prosecco and gin, what else would we need?), and a full on 90’s mix, throwing in those few 70s and 80s belters that get everyone on the floor (Dancing Queen and We are Family being personal favourites), plenty of soap and loo roll in the ladies and we’d be set.  Finish at 10pm, home in time to make the packed lunches and get to bed at a reasonable time.  Result!  Now remember, this was my idea, so if I see any MumClub nights advertised, I’ll have to give you a very stern talking to!  (but don’t forget to send me a complimentary ticket!)

Until I can get this off the ground, or we work out where we can actually go out dancing, it looks like it’s car dancing.  If you see me at a set of lights, give me a nod and join in!