Dad dot info
DAD.info form. Ask questions, get answers

Pearls before Swine

<a href="http://" target="_blank">MrunalSisodia</a>

MrunalSisodia

11 Nov 2014

“To be honest, Mrunal, I’m not really sure I understand what comes first: The music or the choreography,” said John, my father in law as we settled down into the Mayflower theatre in Southampton.

 

“I’m glad you said that, “I responded. “I have no idea how a ballet works.” Now I would hardly class myself as a culture vulture but ballet is a real blind spot for me. This was only the second ballet I had ever been to but my pedigree was good. The first show I had seen had been the Bolshoi in Moscow whilst on a sixth form trip more than half a lifetime ago.

Settled in between us, wide eyed and expectant, my own little prima ballerina was oblivious to our Philistine musings. My four year old was ready for her first ever ballet – a performance of Coppelia by the English National Ballet no less.

Now normally, an afternoon at the Ballet would not be first on my list of ways to spend a Saturday afternoon. Both John and I would have been a good deal happier at St Mary’s a couple of miles away watching Southampton play Sunderland. We were both there as substitutes. My wife and her mother had planned to come but were both were feeling under the weather. So, the “B” team stepped up and hunkered down to have our horizon’s expanded as the curtain went up.

Now, I’m not a prude but the first thing I noticed was the phenomenally tight tights that the male dancers were wearing. The fact that they were flesh coloured made it even worse because every time they turned around, it really did look as if a couple of raw (if perfectly sculpted) naked buttocks were being thrust in our direction. It took me quite a while to recover from that.

Coppelia was suggested to us as a fine ballet to take a young girl to because the playful story of a doll that comes to life. However, by the middle of the first act I was thoroughly lost. I had some idea of what was going on which mostly seemed to involve a somewhat choppy love affair but other than confirming that there was a good deal of twirling and poncing around in disturbingly tight tights I’m not sure I could have explained the finer points of the performance.

The second Act was a little darker and a few minutes in, little Meri turned to me and said, “I want to go now. I don’t like it anymore.”

The first thing I did was wake up. I’m sorry but I’m the dad of a four and six year old and if you give me a big meal and put me in a warm seat in a darkened room, I’m going to have a doze. I managed to reassure her that it was all OK, gave her a bit of a hug and paid a little more attention as the plot progressed.

At half time, sorry I mean the interval, I was able to get a good signal on my phone, and checked the football scores. Leicester were drawing at Newcastle. Reasonably content I settled down for the final act.

In the end, it all seemed to work out fine. Boy married girl but not before some more dancing, twirling and pirouetting in disgustingly tight flesh coloured tights. We shuffled out and I asked Meri, “Did you enjoy the ballet? Would you like to come again.”

“Yes!” she nodded.

I checked my phone again, “Bloody hell. Southampton eight, Sunderland nil! We really should have gone to the football!”

 

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of Dad.info.

The views expressed in this blog are solely those of the blogger and do not necessarily represent the views of Dad.info. – See more at: http://www.dad.info/article/mrunal/seconds-out#sthash.O23TFybM.dpuf

Related entries

Too old for this

Too old for this

It was late on a Thursday evening and Rodger and I were walking up Upper Street in Islington, looking for a Thai restaurant. We were a little worse for wear   “You OK?” he asked looking at my awkward gait. “Yeah,” I said with that little inflection that indicated...

The big day

The big day

I could hear the rustling from the room next-door and glanced at my watch: 6:30 am. I groaned to myself but there was a certain inevitability about it   The kids bounded into our room moments later. “Is Uncle Steve here? Is he here?” They asked excitedly. “Yes,...

The big questions

The big questions

I was walking home from school with my five year old daughter. As we approached our front door she looked up at me   “Daddy?” she asked in that tone of voice that all dads will recognise as a precursor to something that they’ve been pondering. “Yes?” I answered...

Latest entries

Has Lockdown Hurt Your Pre-Schooler?

Has Lockdown Hurt Your Pre-Schooler?

4-year-olds have regressed eight months during UK lockdowns. Who would have believed we could survive a year with... No school. No clubs. No childcare. No grandparents. Not even a poxy toddler group to give me much needed backup. I have spent sleepless nights worrying...

Second Child Survival Kit

Second Child Survival Kit

You had your world turned upside down by your first child. You are battle scarred, sleep deprived and now expecting number two. Your days of lazy lie-ins and freedom are distant memories, but your life is also very full with the joy your child brings. The news of...

How to help an anxious child

How to help an anxious child

The current world is an uncertain one for our kids. Lockdown has left them off school, educated by frazzled parents, separated from their friends, unable to enjoy their usual activities and in many cases struggling to sleep. Our children are aware of a threat they...

Pin It on Pinterest