I’m not dead!

I’m not dead.

I have just been a very busy girl.

And I survived Xmas completely unscathed. Not a bruise to my body or ego anywhere to be found. All I can say is…”Thank God that crap is over for another year”

I wish that I could say that I have been busy with photography stuff, but I don’t want to lie to anyone……..not even myself. I have been busy meeting new people and this, combined with work and family/friend commitments in the lead-up to this ridiculous Xmas thingy has kept me busier than I have ever been.

But I caught up with a friend today who wanted me to take some new photos of him. The last ones I took of him apparently destroyed his happily celibate, single life and he was wanting to get a few new ones to see what effect they might have. Bloody camera adores him. Once the new photos hit Tinder the poor bastard is going to be swamped with offers of love, lust and devotion, which he is totally going to love.

It was while we were wandering around the streets of my marvellous Melbourne on what was a truly glorious Boxing Day that we came upon an unusual ‘busker’. An older man with a sound system, a lot of enthusiasm and quite possibly a hell of a lot of repressed sexual tension.

He danced for me.

He danced for my camera.

He danced for the money.

He’s not dead yet, either.

 

 

The carrot at the end of the stick

Even though I knew that I had to knuckle down and do all that horrible domestic stuff, there was a reward waiting for me at the end. It was my light at the end of the tunnel, my pot of gold at the bottom of the rainbow, my carrot on the end of the stick…..

I had been asked to go along and watch the Same-sex Dancesport Championship.

Watch.

LOL!!! Like I could sit down at such an event and just ‘watch’. I took my camera and two different lenses and ‘watched’ the event the only way I know how……through the lens of the camera.

The dancers were wonderful, the costumes were simple but effective and the whole event was a delight. There were drag queens, there was great music, the venue was perfect and there was plenty of room for me to sneak around and take photos.

Book me a seat for next year please George. xoxo  🙂

Winners are grinners!!!

The winning photo. Theme: Summer in the city.

I won!!!!  I won!!!!! I won!!!!!!

What did I win? I won the January competition in the Facebook photography excursion group that I am a part of.

Me!

Me……….. who has been taking photos for only a relatively short time.

Me……….who until late 2014 still could not work out her F stops.

Me……….who only has a 50mm prime lens to put on her camera.

I am so excited.

I woke the dogs up with my screams of shock. I mean…..there are some really brilliant photographers in this Facebook group. I do not consider that I am anywhere NEAR their level.

But this is a big step towards my 2016 goal. Entering competitions. I’m entering. And I will keep on entering. And I hope I can win a few more, too.   🙂

 

PS: Thank you Rod for supplying the title for today’s blog.

 

“Summer’s here and time is right for dancing in the street”

My blog title today is shamelessly stealing a line from the David Bowie/Mick Jagger hit ‘Dancing in the Streets’, which was originally a hit for Martha & the Vandellas and was written by another legend Marvin Gaye.

Why am I singing this song? Because in my marvellous Melbourne on Saturday there was dancing in the streets. Well, Federation Square to be exact. If you want to be really pedantic about locations I can probably get you the longitude and latitude coordinates as well.

Latin dancing. 🙂

I didn’t know whether to take photos or join in!! If I didn’t have a train to catch I would have been up there with them.

May you rest in peace David Bowie with the knowledge that there will always be dancing in the streets.

 

Okay
Tokyo, South America, AUSTRALIA, France, Germany, UK, Africa

Calling out around the world
Are you ready for a brand new beat
Summer’s here and the time is right
For dancing in the street

They’re dancing in Chicago (dancing in the street)
Down in New Orleans (dancing in the street)
In New York City (dancing in the street)

All we need is music, sweet music
There’ll be music everywhere
They’ll be swinging, swaying, records playing
Dancing in the street, oh

It doesn’t matter what you wear
Just as long as you are there
So come on, every guy, grab a girl
Everywhere, around the world

They’ll be dancing, dancing in the street
(Dancing in the street)
It’s an invitation across the nation, a chance for folks to meet
They’ll be laughing and singing and music swinging
Dancing in the street

Philadelphia, PA (dancing in the street)
Baltimore in DC now (dancing in the street)
Don’t forget the motor city (dancing in the street)
On the streets of Brazil (dancing in the street)
Back in the USSR (dancing in the street)
Don’t matter where you are (dancing in the street)

All we need is music, sweet music
There’ll be music everywhere
They’ll be swinging, swaying, records playing
Dancing in the street, oh

It doesn’t matter what you wear
Just as long as you are there
So come on every guy, grab a girl
Everywhere, around the world

They’ll be dancing, dancing in the street
(Dancing in the street)
Way down in L.A., everyday
Dancing in the street (dancing in the street)
Cross in China too, me and you
Dancing in the street (dancing in the street)

Don’t you know they’ll be dancing
Dancing in the street (dancing in the street)
Don’t you know they’ll be d-d-d-d-dancing
Dancing in the street (dancing in the street)

The magic of dance

As my photography friend and I wandered the streets of my marvellous Melbourne last night we found every corner occupied by a busker. Some were good, some were not, some wore outrageous costumes but most were just average folk trying to earn an extra quid.

The people watching were just as diverse. Some were mildly interested, some were fascinated, many were locals and some were tourists.

Most folk stood and watched for a short while before going on their way. But there was one couple last night who used the wonderful music of a very talented young man to dance. They were lovely to watch.

I get a great deal of pleasure watching two people who have obviously been dancing together for a while. They have learned the subtle signals of their dance partner. They instinctively know what is being asked of them. They way he lifts his arm, taps her hip, or holds his body……….

There may be a basic routine that they fall into for each style of music, but they also have the ability to improvise and create on their feet. To me, that is the mark of a great dancer.

Roll on 2016. I need to get back onto the dance-floor.

 

Jimmy Choo’s they ain’t.

Stunning……….not.

I get the feeling that the footwear that my left foot will be wearing for the next few weeks will not be seen on the catwalks of Milan or Paris or even Broadmeadows at any time in the near future. It has boning, it has, laces and it has velcro and it comes in any colour you want….as long as it’s black.

No dearies, this footwear has not been lovingly designed by Jimmy Choo, Christian Louboutin, Manolo Blahnik or HomyPed. This ‘foot corset’ has been designed by doctors and physiotherapists, for whom fashion and style are words not known to their vocabulary. These wonderful people know only the words support, structure and ugly.

However, in the interests of getting back onto the dance floor to complete two more dances of my Gold Star Standard I will wear this supportive, structured, ugly ‘foot corset’ every day. I will obey the physio and the doctor and keep off my foot as much as possible without being a complete pain in the arse to my fellow workmates. And I will do the exercises that my physio recommends to help retrain these stupid ankle ligaments of mine.

You know, I think I would have been happier if the ‘foot corset’ came in red.

The aftermath of the ‘tragic dancing incident’ continues.

At least the gel was warm. 🙂

As I type today’s blog post it has been seven days and 23 hours since the ‘tragic dancing incident’ and I’m sorry to report that I have not yet returned to the dance floor.  Instead, today I was back to see my doctor who sent me off to have an ultrasound performed on the offending ankle.

Things are not improving. As a matter of fact, the level of aggravation that this ankle is causing me has grown. I was awake for a fair part of the night with it throbbing annoyingly. Not bad enough for me to require heavy-duty pharmaceuticals, but bad enough to keep me awake trying to decide if it was bad enough for me to take heavy-duty pharmaceuticals.

Perhaps I have only myself to blame. I feel bad not being able to pull my weight at work. It was a short week as we all had Monday off and I figured that I would be fine.  After all, I’m not ‘sick’ I just have a bung ankle that aches like the blazes when I’m on it too long, or I walk the wrong way, or I bump it, or the dogs walk over it, or I turn the wrong way in bed………….  So I try to be ‘normal’ at work. Possibly an unwise decision. But I’m not sick!!!!

On the upside of today’s little excursion to the local radiology clinic I was afforded my photo opportunity. At least the results of these photos were available a bit faster than the ultrasound report. I can see my photos immediately. I have to wait till Tuesday for the medical report to arrive.

Lots of impressive buttons.

The confessions of a middle-aged Dancing Queen

Ballroom shoes on and we’re ready to dance. 50mm ISO 1600 1/320s F/1.8

A couple of years ago, as part of some in-house training, all staff had to become familiar with some of the new social media around at the time so that we were more ‘prepared’ to help our customers who we presumed might start asking us questions about this stuff. You know the programs… twitter, instagram, pintrest, blogs and even Facebook.

I now have a twitter account I never go near, I have no interest in pintrest and a lot of the other ‘social media’ thingys, but I have an active Instagram account which links me with some marvellous photographers and Facebook account that keeps me in touch with my wonderful friends in a way that is both unobtrusive and completely voyeuristic .

Back then I even started a blog which is probably gathering dust somewhere out there in cyber-space. I agonised for a couple of days over what I might like to blog about before deciding on discussing my other great love… Dancing. And thus the “Confessions of a Middle-aged Dancing Queen” was born.

Sadly, it was a short-lived foray into the wonderful world of blogging as I wasn’t blogging for me, I was blogging because I had to. Completely unlike this blog which I’m doing because I have set myself a challenge and I intend to see it through.

However, it was a really great idea for a blog as it truly encompassed who I am. I am middle-aged and I am a Dancing Queen. I have been learning to dance for 8 years and my time spent at a dance class or a social dance is probably the only time that I am completely me. I am not a mum. I am not a divorcee. I am not a crazy pug owner. I have no housework. I have no dishes on the sink. I have no bills to pay. I am not tired. I have no-one demanding my time or attention. I have nothing except the music and the steps.

Tonight was dancing lesson night. I was a happy girl.