Dizzyfeet Dancing Blog

Why read about what we've been up to when you can watch? Starting from this month, we will be showing you a short video blog detailing all that's been happening at Dizzyfeet Dancing. This one is a little late in coming, but better late than never! I think it may be a little late to be voting on BGT now too...!

In Australia, their version of Strictly Come Dancing is called Dancing with the Stars, the same as the US version. It's not as polished or professional as our Saturday night extravaganza (a number of the 'professional' dancers are amateurs) but it's still quite good fun none-the-less. Where they have got it right though, is with their head judge - Helen Richey. Much like our very own Len Goodman, Helen is a vastly experienced and successful competitor. In her heyday, with her husband Robert, they were finalists in all of the top professional competitions through-out the world for 7 consecutive years. A fantastic achievement.

So, why am I bringing this up? Of what possible relevance could this be to Dizzyfeet Dancers? Well, Helen and Robert spent 27 years in England up until 2000 when they returned to Australia for good. It was during this time that I started to take lessons from them as a young junior and they became my main Latin coaches right up until they left for down under.

I dropped her. On her head. Bang...

Now Helen is a little lady, but notoriously quite feisty and a fierce disciplinarian. She has a commanding presence for such a diminutive stature (she could definitely become a Dizzyfeet Dancing bookend) and you could always tell that she was the boss, not only of her partnership and Robert, but of the studio and all of the other teachers that were based there too. The incident in question came about in the Rumba. I wasn't a lot taller than Helen at the time, I think I was about 13 and still had a few soft round edges, especially around the tummy. This had set me in pretty good stead at school, as it meant I could get into the rugby team - albeit as a prop in the scrum. But, it was nice for the 'big girly dancer' to feel included and especially in such a manly arena! I mean, what 13 year old boy wants to swap a rain sodden, cold and muddy rugby pitch for a brightly lit dance floor surrounded by scantily clad girls wiggling and gyrating to music? Especially when on that rugby pitch you can squeeze yourself in amongst a group of your bestest mates and have one of the 6' 3" freak of nature 13 year olds hold onto your shorts from between your legs and then haul you forward in a scrum?? I soon knew my calling...

Anyway, back to dancing the Rumba. We were learning a particular step called the 'dead man's drop'. This involves the man to stand in a dramatic stance, with the lady spinning in from the right hand side and finishing on a 90 degree angle facing towards his right side. At this point you would take hold of both her hands, crossing the wrists, and then dropping the arms to their full extent so the lady is flung towards the floor, but stops short because of the nature of the hold. Quite a dramatic move and even more so when I did it with Helen! I guess a certain portion of the blame could be aimed at Helen - at the time she was one of the most popular competitive coaches in the country and had a wide range of pupils from young juniors such as me, right up to the very best of the day and ultimately the world champion. Maybe she was a little naive to think that I would just exactly know what to do, or perhaps she misjudged how long my arms were. Needless to say, she showed it to me a few times, and I guess she thought that would be enough.

I can remember thinking as she was spinning in to me, her dark eyes boring right through me (a little tip there for spinning - make sure you look where you're going! It's called spotting...) that I really didn't know what I was supposed to be doing. It all happened a little quick, and no sooner had those eyes been staring at me, they were then flying past me and down towards the floor as my hands seemed to flounder in the air, desperately trying to cling on to something, anything, but to no avail. THUMP!

It's been nearly two weeks now since we announced our somewhat sad retirement from competitions and it's given me time to reflect on nearly 25 years of memories. As with any career, there have been highs and lows, but I guess I'm quite fortunate to be able to walk away with the highlights closest in my thoughts. Of course now is a good time to point out that quite probably the greatest highlight of my 'almost' illustrious life as a competitive dancer came in October of 2006. I'd like to think that Kelly would agree! It was then, as a bright eyed, innocent 28 year old I wandered into the foyer of the Novotel Wollongong (that'll be in Australia) and met my future wife - and look what she's done to me!! I think that occasion and the subsequent years can be saved for another time.

You could say I saved the best 'till last (and I probably should!) however my dance partner history is chequered with success and failure and I think now is a good time to start sharing some of the more interesting moments! My first ever partner was called Anne-Marie Beattie. She was 7 and I was 9 and our first competition was at the Leigh Ballroom in Eastleigh - where I had first started to learn dance as a small(er) boy.

We were disqualified.

My mum always has been and still is a bit of seamstress. From my early years, right up until I stopped competing in Latin competitions in 2002, she made all of my outfits and most recently my teaching trousers. They were all brilliant. Anyway, in this first competition of mine she decided to rustle me up a lovely aquamarine satin shirt, which was very 1980's! Despite a thorough search, we've not been able to find any pictures of it sadly, although there is a video of it which in time I'll share with you. If you behave. You'll have to make do with this picture instead. Notice that I conformed with a white shirt and bow tie??

Now, there are certain rules regarding what juvenile (under 12) dancers can wear and it stipulates that the boy must wear a white shirt and black tie or bow-tie in Latin. Obviously, an aquamarine satin shirt with ruffled shoulder seams is not the expected attire for a 9 year old boy and simply against the rules. It was a bit like a moment from Strictly Ballroom! Needless to say the chairman of adjudicators on the day disqualified me, which I think was a little harsh especially as it was my first competition and I was only 9! His name was Bryan Allen, and I'm pretty sure he has held that moment against me my entire career! Looking back, the question shouldn't be why were we disqualified, but why didn't our teacher tell us the rules? They allowed me to go out onto the floor, in my glorious technicolour shirt, showing up all the other little boys in their boring and bland white shirts! Perhaps they didn't bet on Mr Allen being such a scrooge!

I think that's probably enough to be going on with for now, but trust me there are plenty more stories like this one to come! Perhaps next time I'll recount the moment I dropped a Dancing With the Stars judge on her head...

Sounds nice, doesn't it? Sadly, it doesn't mean that we've decided to swan off to the Costa Del Sol and spend the rest of our time sunbathing at our hillside villa. No. It is with deep sadness that we announce our retirement from competitive dancing....

The 'early' bit is pretty relevant, as we could definitely keep going for a few more years yet as Kelly is still in her twenties (you don't disclose a woman’s age) and I'm only 33. It's quite typical for high level professional competitors to go on until their late thirties, although there are obviously exceptions to this. I can think of a couple of good examples off the top of my head; Ernie Chatt, with his wife Myra, won the World Amateur Championships and then promptly turned professional - already in his 40's! At the other end of the scale, Lynn Harman was a Professional World Champion in the late seventies and then retired, still in her early twenties. I guess it's different for every single person, but eventually the time is right to retire and that time for us, is now. That last bit almost makes me want to break out into a song....

I'm sure you would like to know why?

It's not as easy as one specific reason or event that has brought about our decision, more a succession of events and developments that have ultimately made the decision for us. So where do I start? To begin with, the biggest reason and often the reason a lot of dancers in our position walk away from it all, is money. Isn't it always about money? Practising, keeping fit and eating well are 3 of the most important aspects of high level competition in any activity and conveniently pretty much the cheapest elements too. Ballroom dancing however, requires a multitude of other things that aren't cheap. Kelly's dresses for example, can be up to £2000 a time and in any competition year, she can easily get through 5 (which I will say is nothing compared to some dancers. One of our friends spent £50000 in just one year on dresses. Bonkers). We've been very lucky to get a small sponsorship from Leena Teperi (Kelly's excellent and eccentric Finnish dressmaker!) which has helped immensely, but once the dresses have been worn a few times they are no longer vogue enough for the next competition and get relegated to the 'dance wardrobe' which now has some 10 dresses hanging up, looking for new owners. (Anyone interested? Let us know…)

Well, perhaps a Bronze and Silver first would be a good starting point!

It is of course Olympic year, but don’t worry this blog isn’t about ‘The Greatest Show on Earth’ – far from it. I’m sure that Simon Cowell is quite annoyed that the Olympic games has coined that particular phrase; surely his X-Factor franchise would be more suitable with the majority of people being far more interested in watching shocking reality TV than sport. Incidentally, Albania sent just 8 athletes to the last Olympics Games in Beijing, and yet the first season of X-Factor Albania (2012) attracted thousands upon thousands of hopefuls… A bit of pointless information and probably not in the slightest bit linked.

Enough. The subject of this blog today is dance examinations, or how we like to call them Medal Tests. Way back in the 1980’s, I took my first dance exam as a little, somewhat dishevelled, 4 year old! I can’t quite remember which exam I took (I’m sure my mum would be able to tell me and even produce the certificate) but needless to say it was suitable enough for a small boy of 4 and I passed. And so it began…

Over the next 12 years, I took all the exams that were on offer with the IDTA (my dance school back then didn’t do ISTD like us) and once they were done, started on some NATD ones too. I’m quite proud to say that in all bar one of the exams (my Silver exam if I remember correctly) I got the highest marks possible. I definitely wouldn’t be the dancer I am today without all of the specific training and discipline that was required to pass an examination.

It’s a shame that I can’t go back and take my Silver medal again – but it’s a little late now that I’m a qualified professional! I can be a little stubborn at times, and I vividly remember that exam. My mum had got me a little black jacket, much like a dinner jacket for grown-ups, and I felt fantastic in it. However, when you put your arms up in a suit jacket that isn’t specifically designed for dancing you end up with your ears resting neatly on the shoulder pads! And such was this jacket. My teacher at the time told me to take it off, but I’d just got my nice shiny jacket and wasn’t taking it off for anyone! I looked like a grown up! Needless to say it didn’t help my dancing as I got a commended and not the usual highly commended that I’d come to expect. The examiner comments reflected this jacket faux-pas and I was accused of dancing with hunched shoulders and not producing a smooth look. Which, thinking about it now, was a little harsh. How many children’s shoulders actually go above their ears? Surely they noticed it was just the jacket getting a little over-excited and not actually my little 8 year old shoulders? I do remember my teacher being quite cross with me for not taking it off, so perhaps she doctored the marks or advised the examiner to mark me down on purpose to teach me a lesson… Whatever the reason, it had a positive effect as I didn’t wear a jacket again and normal service was resumed the following exam!