Different strokes

We had a great weekend. Friday evening Rowland and I went to a smart prizegiving in a big hall. Table decor was appropriate for the event, what appeared to be go kart tyres with candles burning inside, wine on the table and the starter already at each place, covered in clingfilm. I was a tad dubious but that was the start of a really good meal. Around 1100 people were served, efficiently and quietly, a most acceptable three course meal. The prizegiving was long but that was of course the whole point of the evening. Finally, dessert was eaten and the disco was cranked up. The love of my life had promised me two dances - you may recall I love to dance - so I was geared up. However, I had forgotten that this 95% afrikaans crowd would be dancing to a different beat so to speak. From young (early twenties) to old the guests were up on the dance floor doing the more modern version of "langarm" - for those not from these parts, that is a sort of waltz on too many red bulls done with the partners' right arms pointing out front. This dance now appears to have evolved and the couple both face forward (no more dancing backwards for the ladies) and the man puts in some quite intricate footwork while twirling his partner and dashing around the dance floor.
If I sound to be mocking, I'm not. I I love to watch the enthusiastic couples and marvel at the energy and sturdy thighs that go into the dance.
Saturday evening was a surprise 40th birthday party, also mostly motorsport fraternity at a sports club. It was one of those delightful family affairs, children running around, ten year old boys with their hair greased up, trying to break dance while the girls ignored them. The music came from a juke box and was wicked. One person with no music in them changed tunes just as I was about to enjoy the headbanging part of Bohemian Rhapsody but that aside most enjoyable.
So why was no-one dancing. I mentioned this many blogs ago that the generation who are now around forty years old don't seem to dance. Caroline also mentioned the same thing once I think. It's sad.
A gentleman of around 75 or so years came through from the bar, still clad in his bowling clothes, a little stout but, those bowlers are limber. After asking the general crowd why no one was dancing to Staying Alive - ah, ha, ha, ha, stayin' alive - he proceeded to do the whole John Travolta dancing bit, complete with pelvic thrusts and arm outstretched. If only Mr Travolta could have seen him.
So kids, get out on the dance floor, please.
Then came Sunday, Fathers Day. We were a party of ten for breakfast, Sion and his ladies were still away on holiday, much missed. We went to Philadelphia (Western Cape not USA) to a delightful place called Pepper Tree, it was chilly at first but the coffee and hot chocolate soon hit the spot. This small restaurant gets 4 stars out of 5 for a great breakfast and friendly, efficient service. Not to mention really keen prices. There's a pottery and gift shop and across the road Magic Minerals where you can buy crystals, singing bowls and many other items from two uber-friendly and helpful people.
After breakfast our driver, Rowland, took us on a tour of Cape Town, over the new flyover, new roads, around past the stadium, through the Waterfont and along to see the ferris wheel.
What a good weekend it was, we'll need a few days to recover.