Let's Get Physical #2

Thanks to the joy of South West Trains and their uselessness over the weekend, I arrived in Angel considerably late. But late for what? Some wonderfully charming friends of mine in their final year at university have their own dance collective called DRA. Already in demand for film premieres, music videos and unique club nights, their spectacular branch of contemporary dance with its 1960's rockabilly flair is certainly very much on the rise. DRA is a major player behind an intriguing new concept: getting fit while at the pub. This might raise eye-brows, but it truly worked.

I arrived at The Lexington on the Pentonville Road, quickly changed into some incredibly attractive red lycra trousers featuring stirrups and side panels of red and white horizontal stripes; and jumped onto the dance floor in time for the tail end of the warm up. It was such a fun and interesting experience. Imagine your local pub, preferably one with a medium sized dance floor (possibly upstairs), the dance floor lighting to which one is accustomed, and also that instantly recognisable smell of stale alcohol that you find in public houses when they first open; plus aerobics! The juxtaposition and the exercise in the semi-darkness were almost too fab for me after the simple pot of Nettle tea I had from Orange Pekoe in Barnes only the hour previously.

Almost, but I managed to control my excitement, for the break was upon us all too soon. Now imagine a lot of warmed-up bodies in lycra, half heading for the bar, the other half heading outdoors for a replenishing cigarette - instructors included, of course. It was just too funny, and of course it felt very London and supremely cool. Part Two was the feature, the highlight. After another re-warm up, we were introduced to the main thrust of the event: learning a routine to Madonna's Holiday. Oh the excitement that filled the room! This might have just been myself, as I do have a habit of filling rooms. Off we went. It was here I rediscovered my two left feet, but perseverance and determination saw me passably reproduce the movements of our instructors. Effectively, act and think like Madonna and one is three quarters of the way there. The practice culminated in the class being divided into two, so each group could perform for the other and we could see how the thing looked en masse. Rounds of applause and ta-da! actual exercise completed. Some people changed, others merely draped a jacket or jumper over their wonderfully sweaty lycra before heading to the bar for their well deserved post-"gym session" drink.

The next event is scheduled for March 20th, and at £5 it is incredibly good value. A sort of aerobics-lite for those of us who are more likely to go drinking than to the gym, it combines the two in a safe, un-scary manner and I wish it all the success.

Photo courtesy DRA Dance Collective. 

Time Goes By - So Slowly

My most-loved song of all time is (somewhat embarrassingly) Hung Up, by Madonna. The searing desperation, the entrancing movement, retro glamour and the undeniable call to the dance floor from the icy Queen of Pop somehow, four years on, still gives me the cutis anserina it gave me when I first heard it in 2005.

The line that most hooks me is "Time goes by so slowly". Time is such a curious concept. The first half of my life was probably too primitive to contemplate it, beyond the fact that bedtime was at 8.30pm and whether I could push this any later. Then secondary school, and with it, thought processes suddenly much more sophisticated. The first time I actually thought about it was when, in Religious Education, our Chaplain asked "What is Time?". Naturally, when things are so black and white, my hand shot up and I announced that Sir could read it on the clock above the whiteboard, and see how slowly it was passing. Obviously I said the latter part in my head, but this suddenly became a debate.

St Augustine, in Book 11 of his Confessions, asks, "What then is Time? If no one asks me, I know: if I wish to explain it to one that asketh, I know not."

What IS Time? How does it work, where does it come from? Overloaded, my brain kept me quiet the rest of that lesson. I think everyone has noticed and commented at one stage or another that the weeks have gone so quickly, the working day is passing at a pace to rival a snail. Christmas is nearly here again, when once Christmases seemed so very far away. When danger is afoot, time stands still. Or so I am told!

In modern society, Time is essential to functionality and as such is coordinated on an international scale. Leap years, leap seconds can only make sense when the rest of the world agrees with you and participates. Though our Gregorian calendar is a corrected version of the Julian, it still has not become entirely universal. Globalisation and the internet have all but removed the barriers of time differences, but humans on the whole remain diurnal. Time is argued by scholars of Science, Philosophy and Religion, and many within have vastly differing opinions. In Economics, "Time is Money" is an ethos populated in the City and Wall Street.

"Time is nature's way of keeping everything from happening at once" Albert Einstein OR John Archibald Wheeler OR Woody Allen.

I am aware I have thrown a whole lot of disjointed and barely connected thoughts on Time together, but possibly because this is where my head is at. And also I am short on time (Ha Ha). Which leads me to the thought on Time in a personal sense. We are all aware we have a limited amount of time in the day, and limited lifespans as humans. Many seem to be challenging mortality, but I doubt it will come to fruition in my lifetime. But it does scarily make one value how one spends one's day, and to question life in general.

Perhaps this is the onset of an early life crisis? Or perhaps to merely aspire to make better choices, enjoy and LIVE.

Total mentions of the word "Time" in this post: Twenty.