Shut Up and Dance

From ballet to ballroom, dance is a good move

One by one, we find a place at the barre. Usually the same place. Creatures of habit. We wriggle our feet into ballet shoes (not tippy-toe pointe shoes but canvas or leather flats). Some students embark on serious stretching. I touch my toes, then chat. Welcome to my adult ballet class, one of my favourite ways to exercise and unwind.

‘General level’ is how the lesson is billed, which means it’s for mixed abilities. But that’s not the only thing that varies. We’re all different shapes, sizes and ages. Granted, I’m at the older end of the scale, but no one gives age a second thought (it’s not like we’re striving for stardom at the Opera House). And oh, how I love the absolute freedom to move across the expanse of a studio floor. To interpret music with movement. To dance in space and in sync with others. These are the moments when my rampant anxiety seems to fade, exiting stage left.

I’ve dipped in and out of ballet all my life and lessons still run to much the same format they did when I was six years old attending classes over the Co-op, run by the formidable Mrs Gray, accompanied by Mrs Bungard on the ivories. Each year, an examiner would descend from the Royal Academy of Dance, sit at a spindly table, pen poised, inviting entrants into the examination room by ringing a small hand bell. God, that bell. To us quivering fairies it had the ominous gravitas of the gong at the start of a Rank feature film.

I did terribly well at RAD exams but I chucked in the towel in my early teens when Mrs Gray decamped to the church hall, which meant the boys from the fifth form could peer through the windows and take the mickey. I was silly to have packed it in. Message to the young; don’t make life choices based on the sniggerings of school boys.

Now, I find ballet classes akin to meditation. Firstly, because the music, whether it’s pre-recorded or played live by a pianist, is so utterly spirit-lifting - it might be Tchaikovsky, it might be a classical take on the Flintstones, but it’s a fast ticket out of reality. Secondly, by the very nature of the exercises, you have to put your worries to one side and concentrate. Hard. Because while individual steps correspond to a learned universal language, the order in which the teacher links them alters every time. All you get is a quick demo. An even faster recap. And you’re on. Daunting, but superb training for your memory.

In fact, it’s been found dancing – for example, ballroom, Latin or salsa – can raise mood, increase flexibility and also support cognition in healthy older adults. The multisensory stimulation and social interaction, coupled with learning new sequences of movements, perhaps while anticipating and reacting to cues from a partner, can bolster brain health. One landmark study also showed that people over 40 who participated in regular dancing over a decade almost halved their risk of dying from cardiovascular disease. For this benefit, you gotta get a bit sweaty and out of breath, though - sitting on the floor for ‘Oops upside your head’ won’t cut it.

Having travelled a lot, I’ve come to realise dance is something humans everywhere are compelled to do. It’s in our DNA. Which is why wherever I’m on a trip, to truly put a finger on the pulse of the place, I seek out the local dance scene. No, I’m not talking hotel foyer shows where every night, a trio duly don a nylon costume and execute some bendy tricks with a ewer balanced on their forehead, before encouraging audience participation (why is it trapped tourists always seem to do the same gyrations, wafting limp arms in no particular rhythmic relationship to their hapless jigging about?). What I’m referring to is feeling the heartbeat of a neighbourhood. For example, in Buenos Aires, me and my husband skip the slick tango shows and seek out the milongas, tango events that rarely get going before midnight and where all ages partner each other.

I wish, as a nation, we danced more. Together. Sure, if you’re young, there are clubs and raves (in my day, the equivalent was the D.I.S.C.O, where we freestyled to I Feel Love by Donna Summer) and yes, dance is increasing in popularity. But for many mature types, the nearest they get is watching Strictly or bopping to Dancing Queen at a wedding reception. I believe more community dancing might contribute to our gross national happiness. I only have to see how much my friend and her husband, who must be their seventies, enjoy Scottish dancing, reeling the night away. They show such stamina, such style, they’re my poster children for the benefits of dance at any age.



https://www.telegraph.co.uk/columnists/0/power-dance-underestimated-keeps-healthy-anxiety-bay