Dancing partners

I've taken to listening to my i-pod when out walking the dog in the woods. I rarely see anyone, and lately I find myself skipping the light fantastic on mossy paths in hiking boots. And I love it.

I'd like to hear from any other Scots who got taught Scottish Country Dancing at school in the 1960/70s to see what you called a pas de basque/pas de bas. We called this hop step that some dances required a "Paddy Bar" because that's what we thought our teacher was shouting as we hefalumped our way round the drill hall. We never, ever saw the term written down, so we were none the wiser.

Our PE teacher, who was crippled with arthritis, used to beat the backs of our legs with a bamboo cane if we failed to achieve the required three beats in a pas de basque/pas de bas. She was a very scary old dude!


This is an early draft of a poem about it:

At seventeen, going on fifty-two

I dance in walking boots, in sunlight woods,
on the sphagnum-loaded ground.

No-one watches, or even sees, save my poor
bored dog and the odd surprised roe deer.

No-one reaches for the rod when my infant feet
skip a beat in some improv’d pas de bas.

No heady mix of beer and Brut lurches
over to spews up, “fancy dancin’?”

No tsunami of teenage disapproval
to cramp this mother's style.


Here's Janis for you too: