The inside and inter-schools cattiness, the dance mums, the jazz faces, the fat kids, the eisteddfods, the smell of hairspray, immaculate buns, lots of eye-shadow, the awkward boys, the prim donnas, that one person who is out of time or forgot the steps and the G-strings. Oh! the world of dance - and all that jazz.
For those clever ones out there, my name is Welsh for the smiling basket. Why? Well, a basket is a vessel that appears stable. In fact, it is tightly wound, rarely reveals weakness and is widely accepted not to smile; that's me. I intend to, through this blog, unwind, release my load and smile, hopefully bringing strangers on the joy ride with me. So friends, I am setting out on a journey, and I hope to see you at the other end.
Saturday, 8 June 2013
0142: DANCE TROUPES
The inside and inter-schools cattiness, the dance mums, the jazz faces, the fat kids, the eisteddfods, the smell of hairspray, immaculate buns, lots of eye-shadow, the awkward boys, the prim donnas, that one person who is out of time or forgot the steps and the G-strings. Oh! the world of dance - and all that jazz.
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