It Takes Two to Tango

As has become somewhat customary with my posts, there is a double meaning to this title. I hear you cry "what wit awaits us this time?!" and you cries shall be met with the simple truth. This post is about both duos and tangoes.

The first and most immediately titled story is that of my first ever tango lesson. It was my new year's resolution to learn a new dance. Well, to learn any dance at all. Apart from the Macarena and "DJ Casper's Cha Cha Slide" my repertoire is somewhat limited. Therefore, I began the year with the distinct aim of gaining more grace and poise than that which I possessed already. No mean feat!

I landed on the tango as a dance primarily because I love the drama. I mean I actually hate real life drama. I avoid reality shows and soaps like the plague, and yet when you give me theatre...when you give me life on lime-lit, audience fuelled steroids - well then I bloody love it.

So, I researched tango classes and happened upon one in London Bridge. On twice a week (a Thursday and a Saturday) it seemed perfect. I booked the Thursday class and was raring to go. Upon arriving there was immediate apprehension as the setting was none other than a hallowed gym. Having not set foot in this sort of establishment for going on 7 years, I was somewhat intimidated. The pulsing music. The beads of sweat. The chorus of grunts. All a cacophony of sound that I was going to have to cut through with my smooth, suave and sultry tango. But then, I love a challenge.

Sadly it turns out that me being smooth, suave or sultry was in fact an insurmountable task. In reality, a great deal of brilliant people starting showing up for the class. Beautiful people. Sexy. Wonderful. Attractive. Continental people. And then there was me. We walked into the studio only for me to find out that this actually wasn't a class but essentially a tango social, whereby all the brilliant tango dancers come together once a month to dance beautiful tango together to beautiful tango music. Great. I awkwardly explained my situation to the teacher in a painfully British manner of self-deprication, and he eventually realised I was a special case. Being a tango novice, I was very likely to act as both a disruption and a distraction to the class. Therefore, the teacher decided to place me in the safe (and very patient) arms of Diego.

Diego had to go back to the basics. I mean the only thing we did for the first half an hour was walk, and even that was difficult..."you're sticking your bum out", "you're sticking your tummy out", 'you're swaying your hips", "you're flat on your feet" etc. etc. Eventually I decided to stop critiquing Diego and focus on my own technique...But as I said Diego was ultimately very kind and very patient, and he even got me dancing something akin to a tango by the end. Although I think he was very glad to be parted from me in order to dance with someone who could actually tango. Not least because I had very inconsiderately had lots of raw red onion for lunch. Sorry Diego (and there was me thinking the tears were tears of joy as I executed the crossover step to perfection?!)

After Diego, it was the main man who took me for a spin. Suitably impressed by my general 'averageness' he then palmed me off onto another gentleman named Freddie. Although I have a sneaking suspicion his full name is somewhat more exotic. Freddie was also a sweetheart, with a similar sense of self-belittlement that I could empathise with. Sadly Freddie's self-deprication was unfounded where mine was not. Freddie proceeded to dance with me and also to try to get to know me. Sadly Freddie overestimated my ability to speak and move at the same time. Needless to say I sacrificed all conversation in order to not break both of Freddie's ankles.

Ultimately, after a mentally draining 90 mins, I bowed out of the tango social and took myself off for some food and recuperation. Although I must say I am rather hooked. It is such an elegant and mesmerising dance. Seeing people who could actually do it was a real treat. I have an awfully long way to go, but I would like to think I am moving in the right direction. Which in tango, as a woman, is mostly backwards. Lets hope that's not a metaphor for 2020 as a whole...

And now - onto the other clever caveat in my title. The duo. The dream team. The perfect pair. Yes I am talking about me and my sister. Last weekend we hosted a dinner party together. Alice has recently lost her confidence in cooking, and so I decided the best way to handle that was to invite two intimidatingly good cooks over for dinner. I really don't understand my logic sometimes, or maybe I do and I just love the adrenaline that the very real possibility of failure brings.

So, we spent a few hours poring over recipe books, before I essentially decided we would "wing it" (for future reference people, this is very much my usual dinner party routine, so I do apologise for the haphazard nature of any of my hosting events. There is a reason I never send the menu out in advance). But we took ourselves to a shop and bought a silly amount of booze (and a sensible amount of alcohol. As long as your definition of 'sensible' is 'enough to get them drunk before the starter so they think you're a michelin chef by dessert')

Our guests arrived, and the evening began much as it was due to continue. In surprising style. Perhaps I had low expectations (of myself rather than Alice). But somehow, we managed to pull it off. Wine was drunk. Food was cooked. Dinner was served. All in all, every guest was fed and watered to a suitable degree until the revels died out at around 2am. Needless to say Alice and I look forward to hosting again soon (though we're not yet in a position to take bookings).

So it has been a busy 2020 so far. This January has seen many firsts (dinner parties, tango classes...well that's about it really), but also lots of 2s. Ok the segue between firsts and seconds would have been smoother, but you see what I am doing here. It's a number game, alright?! And I hope it bodes well for the rest of this year. A year which, in its name, carries a pair of pairs. 2 of the number 2. So here's to the pairs that make up the world, and make up my life. Me - and you (yes I mean you, anonymous reader) ;)

Lots and lots of love to the many other halves of my mutli-faceted pair.