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Dreadful Nonsense

"I've read your blog. it's really funny. you should write a column." - Jon Ronson

We went to the ballet last night, because we’re young and cultured with disposable cash and know about the finer things in life, plus if you’re ever presented with the opportunity to stare at the legs of a man who could crush your head with his thighs and a fine behind that could - nay, should - be used to crack nuts, you should always grab that opportunity with both hands and use it to fuel your imagination for weeks to come.

One of my friends is the type who knows about these things and gets email notifications when cheap tickets are going, and that was how, last night, we found ourselves in seats that would usually have cost us a day’s full wages. The seats were quite far back, quite high up, and we realised on arrival that the phrase “no arm rests” translates in ballet terms as “pressing up against each other, skin touching, in an uncomfortable way for over three hours”. BUT! It was the Royal Opera House in London’s famous London, it was the Royal Ballet, it was Sleeping Beauty and dear blimey those ladies were SKINNY and PRETTY.

I love looking at tiny fragile people leaping through the air. I love to watch them throw each other about, spin each other around, fall over in a swoon, get back up again, pretend to be cats and kings and queens and rats and witches and swans. I love it when they all move at the same time and strike an uncomfortable post in a long line. I love it when they dance together as a group, and I love it when they take solo turns. I love it when something bad happens and the prima ballerina must fall gracefully into a faint, or even die slowly while pirouetting. I love it when they stand on their toes for an impossible amount of time, or adopt a pose that must be so unbelievable uncomfortable I got a cramp in my foot just looking at them.

Skinny people are very entertaining when they sparkle and twirl. I remembered that again last night as the third hour of the ballet stomped forward with no sign of abating. When I grow up, I want to be a pretty ballerina. Or a fairy princess.

This entry was posted on 30 October 2006 at 10:51 pm. 0 comments

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