The bigger blue and the blue that helps to eradicate the naughtiness incurred by the other blue:
Of course, the stroll along the beach was but a prelude to the more effective eradication of sinning: Zumba.
An initiate, I was skeptical: any exercise class that is screamingly endorsed and promises ‘fun’ more than once in paragraph paradoxically lessens my interest.
However, given that the alternative classes involved large dumb-bells, it seemed a harmless manner in which to pass the evening.
Accompanied by an enthusiastic friend, she cunningly waited until the dance studio doors shut (locked?) to warn of the concluding limbo.
At 173cm, the limbo is hardly my dance of choice.
The limbo did not redeem itself – and my friend omitted that in truth it involved everyone running cowering and giggling under the arm-arches – but the class itself was super.
I love to dance and the sheer mix of styles was dizzying – although the Bollywood section largely involved me hopping frenetically in a circle while waving my arms in the air manically.
The wave featured again in class, albeit inadvertently – so full was the studio that by the time the instructor had spun or ducked, a good 20 second lapse occurred before it reached those of us ensconced at the back.
A flurry of flawed dervishes, we whirled without synchronization, seeking only to avoid a spaghetti entanglement of arms and pony-tails.
It was joyful, energetic and (dare I use the word?) fun.
And I cannot wait for the next class on Wednesday.
Which is something I would never say about Legs, Bums and Tums or crazy drill yoga.