Here at Beeston Beats we don’t do things by halves, (usually pints are the weapon of choice). Me and fellow Beatsonite, Miss Donna Bentley, relentlessly trawled through the Beeston entertainment listings before finally homing in on an upcoming event at Attenborough’s village hall.
For those not in the know, a ceilidh (celi or Highland fling), pronounced Kay-Lee is a sort of barn dance and not the 1984 song by Marillion, All together now…“Kayleigh is it too late to say I’m sorry? And Kayleigh could we get it together again?” Nope? Ask ya mum.
The premise is simple: a social event with Scottish or Irish folk music with traditional dancing (grab ya partner, dosey doe and all that malarkey). Sounds straight forward enough. Having never been to an event at the hall and still having my ceilidh virgin plates firmly attached, decisions were made and tickets were booked, Priced at a reasonable fiver – bring a bottle and including supper – while profits went towards St Mary’s Church fund, the evening was a bargain.
Wearing a silly hat I got free at a bar, I was feeling all ready to take on the shindig.
The night in question was St Patrick’s; after spending the day in Nottingham watching the parade and wearing a silly hat I got free at a bar, I was feeling all ready to take on the shindig. On arrival the hall was packed to the rafters with only space in the room at the back to find a seat, adamant that a few drops of alkimihol was needed before my pins hit the dance floor. Which leads me nicely to a quick confession: I struggle with choreographed dancing. You name it – the cha cha slide, time warp, Macarena, and even the ponytailed Whigfield’s simplistic dance for Saturday night – it leaves me quite honestly puddled, exhausted and confused. Mixing up mi lefts with mi rights I usually tend to copy the person closest to me just to survive the incident without huge embarrassment. If that person is like me I dread to think about the outcome…
Luckily enough, the night catered for people with dancing dyslexia like me, with slow and clear instructions from the “caller” tactfully adapting to those more skilled in the dance and those with the grace and etiquette of a merry moose. Merry being the operative word as I had awkwardly supped away through a bottle of the nearest garage’s finest wine (on offer at a bargain of two for a fiver of course), a taste sensation, with nutty hints of paint stripper, methylated spirits and an oaky musk of dank cellar.
Providing the musical accompaniment for the night were south Nottingham band ‘Fiddle Factor’, a group of family and friends dedicated to enhancing the experience through a back drop of fiddly Irish folky tunes through the medium of violin, flutes and even on occasion bagpipes.
After checking out some dance routines on Scottish dance net previously, I was relieved more advance moves such as the Virginia reel, Swedish masquerade, or the sausage machine, were left out: the mind boggles, as me mam would say.
The main objective of the ceilidh is to have fun and not fall on ya bum which I managed to achieve in both parts. Would I go again? Of course, good friends and helping a good cause while having a laugh is what it’s all about. Also there was cake, chocolate cake and a supper of a yummy filled roll and coleslaw side.(It really was all about the cake though.)
Next issue, Donna takes the helm of the good ship Beeston Beats as I am off to become a pirate keeping the look out at Beeston Marina Company as we sip rum and fight seagulls for our supper. Ooooo arrrrr!