St Patrick’s Day.

As an ex-Irish Dancer I feel I have a little responsibility to write a post dedicated to this dear old holiday – mainly because I was involved in it for so many years. This year marks the first year in a LONG time that I haven’t been at a pub dancing/watching my sister dance.

The pub down the road from my work opened bright and early this morning at 8am. Slightly unusual. It had 2 patrons waiting outside the gate at 7.55am and the Irish music was pumping away by 8.05am.

By the time I left work this afternoon to drop the mail at the post office the pub was absolutely packed. I mean people crammed inside and out with a fairly decent sized line outside to get in. There was green and orange everywhere I looked. Women with green spray painted in their hair, men sporting orange shirts, balloons, streamers, the whole shebang. An ambulance was there on its first of, no doubt, many trips. A live band had just started up and people were well on their way to getting drunk.

Now imagine a group of 7 – 16 year old entering that environment. Well that was me and the troupe I belonged to. Don’t get me wrong I loved every second of performing for the drunks – mostly because they loved us no matter how crap we may or may not have been. But its the whole being hit on by sleazy men, getting beer spilled on you and having young men come and pelvic thrust right next to you that I’m not going to miss this year. I really don’t think the Irish Pub will be graced with my presence on St Patrick’s Day ever again really.

My contribution to old St Paddy this year? The green leaves on my floral cardigan and the green Apple flavoured lollipop for the bus trip home.

Dancing at St Patrick’s Day. And before you ask – no I’m not bored.. I’m concentrating.

My most favourite dancing photo of all time. During an exhibition my wig fell off  and landed right in the middle of the dance floor. My best friend pictured with me and I could not stop laughing. we laughed so hard I believe I even had to stop dancing at one point.