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Friday 19 December 2014

Let's get nutcracking

“It won't be Christmas without going to the ballet,” they said. “Go see The Nutcracker."

Well, I think a few of my Christmases came at once with those gentleman ballet dancers and their shapely bottoms.

When the opportunity to see The Nutcracker came up, I jumped at it. I’m not entirely certain why I was so excited - I was more apprehensive that I wouldn’t enjoy it as dance is not normally an area of the arts that I am particularly fond of. But, when in Rome - or London, as it were - the ballet and The Nutcracker are synonymous with Christmas and so I ended up at London’s Coliseum.

You see, I was a ballerina, once. My poor long suffering mother has sewn thousand of sequins and battled yards of tulle to create my costumes. I think my stand out performance was the time I took to the stage as a duck.

Professional ballerina


So not only am I a skilled dancer, The Nutcracker is also one of my favourite suites of music. I studied it in high school, played it on the piano and as part of the orchestra on the cello. In all my time, though, I had never realised that the music and the ballet were devised together - that the ballet was not choreographed to fit the music, but that they were written as a whole.

And so, ticket in hand and friends at my side, we pushed our way through the crowd to take our seats.

The sheer strength, agility and precision of the dancers was incredible. The children, too, were impeccable, and I couldn’t help but think how much of their lives must be dedicated to dance.

When the two primary dancers took to the stage - I could see why they won the starring roles. Not even the slightest of wobbles when up on pointe (and please forgive me as my terminology will be completely off), legs at complete and perfect right-angles; not too high, not too low.

Granted, I was somewhat fixated on the gentleman dancer’s supremely muscular upper thigh region. They must pour themselves into those tights, or they are spray painted on. Either way… The ladies costumes were beautiful too, long flowing dresses for the first act, which moved to sparkly tutu-d numbers for the 2nd.

When it comes to the finer points; I cannot discuss these as I do not know enough. I was surprised at how much I had to concentrate (again, I’ll be honest, I was very tired and a little worried I may have to fight sleep). I had researched the basic premise and could follow well enough, but it was interesting to have to focus so strongly on the body language to know how the ballet was progressing. And another thing that I found, which is going to make me sound like an utter fool, is how much of a story there actually was. I guess I had always considered ballet…just…to…be…dancing? It had never crossed my mind that they are actually telling a story. 

And so I’ve been to my first ballet. I’m quite sure it won’t be my last, but I think I will stick to ballet’s where I know the music so I feel more of a connection to the dancers and storyline.

As the wonderful, late Robin Williams once said:
Ballet - Men wearing pants so tight you can tell what religion they are.

I can’t get their scrumptious bums out of my head.
xx


Friday 12 December 2014

Christmas in London: Winter Wonderland

London does Christmas. In the lead up, I was told, “London..nah, nothing really happens at Christmas, they don’t really get into it.”

Whoever said that was an idiot.
(NB, I can’t remember who it was…so uh…sorry if I like you and just called you an idiot)

London does Christmas. As it is dark by 3pm (a slight exaggeration, it’s about 3.30pm), this truly is the city for Christmas lights. Even the littlest of county’s are decked with sparkles; the little orbs in Hammersmith are particularly lovely. The shopping centres are filled with massive twinkling tree-like structures and ice rinks - and I don’t know if it is because I am so over-excited for Christmas, but I have barely even noticed Christmas carols being played on repeat in the stores. 

Ugly Christmas sweaters. Christmas themed hand warmers, gloves, scarves and beanies (mostly a la Primark). Christmas socks, pyjamas, pants (that’s underwear for all you Aussie folks). Everything you could normally get, there is now a Christmas version of it. And it is all so delightfully wintry. 

In a Christmas bauble!

A foreign concept to a warm-weather creature such as myself. 

Winter Wonderland is a culmination of all things festive. Situated in Hyde Park, it spans a huge area full of rides, markets and food and drink stalls. It’s the Royal Adelaide Show, but free - and Christmas themed. I almost died of happiness.

Throw the ball, Christmas style!

I visited on Wednesday night; a night so chosen as to try to avoid a painful weekend crowd. Becki, Nicole and Cory in tow we met in the freezing night air all ready to go iceskating. I was alternating between clapping my hands with glee like a child and lamenting “Oh, what have I done?”. After some german sausage (everyone needs some german sausage), I skulled a mulled wine  (for confidence) and we made our way onto the ice.

Zoom, round and round

I approached the ice like a baby giraffe. I felt like my legs would go every which way, as I stumbled with shaking legs around my first couple of laps. I stayed close to a wall, skirting it so I could reach out to grab at the moment it looked like I were to go head over heels. Cory, Canadian, took to the ice like he’d been born for it. Becki, much practised, hands clasped behind her back swirled around the rink. Nicole, confident, zoomed past me.

To be fair, I hadn’t ice skated since my second knee reconstruction (or my ankle injury for that matter) so I was worried how my legs would hold up and, knowing me, if I did fall over I had the potential to do some serious damage (coz that’s just how I roll).

Lo and behold, there was not a single stack. Not one of us went arse-up. Soon, the mulled wine settled in and I gained in confidence, seeing how fast I could get around the loop, flailing my arms wildly when I started to wobble. The main problem was the sheer number of people on the rink - at times it bottle necked and with my wonderful ability to stop (read: I can’t stop) meant that I ran into the back of someone. 

I belted out the Christmas and non-Christmas tunes. I skated as fast as I could. I went cross eyed looking at the frost dragon of my breathing. The fairy lights above me. The tree decked out in the middle. The hubbub of the crowd around. 

Ice skating, outside, in the cold night air at Christmas time. Perfection.

***
I will miss my family and friends this Christmas, but between London and its sites and all the activities I have to distract myself, I think this Christmas will be incredible.

It’s not long now.
xx

Complete with Christmas sweater!