Just as I was starting to get into the Swing of things

they go and try to teach us something that requires an honest-to-God ability to dance. Michelle was schoolgirl-giddy when they announced that Thursday's lesson would be covering blues dancing; we'd seen a couple doing it on the dancefloor (and that marginal double entendre is far closer to the truth than you might imagine) at the Bongo club one Tuesday and she'd loved the look of it. I, on the other hand, had goggled in an "Is that legal?" way and thanked my lucky stars that up until that point at least we'd stuck to stuff that didn't require, basically, any soul.

For the uninitiated, blues dancing is frottage recast in a rather more graceful, dancefloor-friendly light. "This is all about connection," the teacher told us on Thursday as she proceeded to fairly liberally connect with her partner. "Don't think. Feeeeew," she might have said, but didn't.

Blues dancing is not really the sort of thing it seems proper to try with just anyone. In fact, I'd probably limit it to those people you've seen naked, and if you're feeling either particularly optimistic or especially lecherous, possibly those you'd like to see naked. It is emphatically not a dance I wanted to learn with my workmates, flatmates or the various pensioners in that night's class.

Needless to say my bodily coordination was reduced to that of a gangling teenager and I sucked mightily. This is roughly the expression I sported for the rest of that evening. Never in my short, uneventful swing career have I been happier to get to the pub after a lesson.

Anyway...

I was at home over the weekend for my Dad's 60th birthday, and as always, enjoyed myself but was still vaguely relieved once the extended family merry-go-round was over and we could relax with some of my parent's friends at the end of the night. Always seems to be a bit tricky to make sure that family, friends and neighbours are all enjoying themselves when they only meet up once every couple of years, and especially when some of them are about as communicative as rocks. Still, it was a mostly fun night, rounded off by a surprisingly sensible and heartfelt toast by one of my Dad's oldest friends.

(As an aside, my Mum asked if I wanted to say something as well, but for some reason I couldn't think of what to say. I'd been lucky to avoid any particular traumas or dramas pretty much throughout my childhood and my memories of my parents back then are a kind of blur of them being caring, accommodating and encouraging in equal measures. Unfortunately that doesn't really translate into a snappy toast.)

On Sunday night my Mum, Dad and I had a meal back in Edinburgh and later on I met up with Ashley and Scott, a friend of hers and a fellow bassist, albeit a somewhat more successful one than your host. Excellent chat all round, and I was inspired into taking Monday off and subsequently squandering it by playing GT4. Good times!

P.S: Dom and Alice got engaged last weekend - congratulations, guys!
P.P.S: We've got a Christmas tree! Nice.