The joy of dancing
I had a bitch of a day yesterday for various reasons
(1) work: trying to map AP data when some numpty has collected the main transactional table as a nominal extract without providing a Chart of Accounts to go with it (I confidently expect this to be meaningless to, at last count, absolutely everyone)
(2) ellistar's temporary car going in for its MOT and turning out to need 360 quids worth of work. I use the term "worth" loosely, as £260 appears to be for the provision and fitting of one pipe, so it doesn't sound "worth" it to me at least
(3) ellistar's cold. He tries very hard not to be a lightweight male, struck down in his prime by the common cold. But he's still a bugger to live with when under the ''fluence of a lurgy.
(4) a fourth matter that REALLY stuck a big, sizzling, lighting struck cloud over my head for the entire day, but that I'm not going to recount.
So I was really in the mood to go to dance class by 6.30. Oh yes. And then; miracle of exercise and new learning curves! We had our first private lesson. For the first time in months, we actually felt challenged by the amount we were being asked to learn. For the first time, we actually felt like we were making progress. Not repeating the same bloody steps week on week and watching, despairingly, as the other couples fail to reproduce them once again, despite the fact that they have been performing them week in, week out for five months.
Our private teacher reckons he can move us from beginners latin to advanced latin in a couple of months, so that we can join the advanced class. And then he can do the same thing with our modern. Life is good, the dancing gods are in their heaven (are there any dancing gods?), and all's right with the world.
(1) work: trying to map AP data when some numpty has collected the main transactional table as a nominal extract without providing a Chart of Accounts to go with it (I confidently expect this to be meaningless to, at last count, absolutely everyone)
(2) ellistar's temporary car going in for its MOT and turning out to need 360 quids worth of work. I use the term "worth" loosely, as £260 appears to be for the provision and fitting of one pipe, so it doesn't sound "worth" it to me at least
(3) ellistar's cold. He tries very hard not to be a lightweight male, struck down in his prime by the common cold. But he's still a bugger to live with when under the ''fluence of a lurgy.
(4) a fourth matter that REALLY stuck a big, sizzling, lighting struck cloud over my head for the entire day, but that I'm not going to recount.
So I was really in the mood to go to dance class by 6.30. Oh yes. And then; miracle of exercise and new learning curves! We had our first private lesson. For the first time in months, we actually felt challenged by the amount we were being asked to learn. For the first time, we actually felt like we were making progress. Not repeating the same bloody steps week on week and watching, despairingly, as the other couples fail to reproduce them once again, despite the fact that they have been performing them week in, week out for five months.
Our private teacher reckons he can move us from beginners latin to advanced latin in a couple of months, so that we can join the advanced class. And then he can do the same thing with our modern. Life is good, the dancing gods are in their heaven (are there any dancing gods?), and all's right with the world.