Dance Shambles

Copyright Oggbashan January 2021

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

Rosemary and I were attending the first committee meeting of our 18+ group. We had been elected, despite our reluctance, at the AGM last week to fill places left by the resignations of two others.

Those two had organised this year's Valentine's Day dance and it had been a disaster.

The first item on the agenda was a post-mortem on the dance.

1. The location was wrong. It was a temperance society's hall and no alcohol could be served or even drunk in the car park.

2. The drinks available had been provided by the hall and were cheaper fizzy drinks, not even national names. There was limeade, orangeade, cherryade etc, all brightly coloured and tasting foul.

3. The lighting was far too bright and unsympathetic. Everyone attending looked dreadful.

4. The music was by an ageing trio who didn't really know any music post 1939, although they had tried. When the leader picked up an electric guitar he looked as if it would bite him. Every member of the trio was older than our parents. We wanted mid 1960s pop music, not that for our grandparents.

The real problem that the recently resigned committee members had faced was that the committee had not decided to have a Valentine's Day dance until just before Christmas. Every venue and music act had been booked months before and the two people were struggling to find anywhere to have the dance, and musicians were also scarce.

Of course, the remaining committee members did not accept that their late decision had been the real cause of the disaster. They just blamed the people who had tried and failed.

The dance had started at seven thirty. By nine o'clock everyone had left even though the hall was booked until midnight. The only good thing was that the hire of the hall and the musicians had been very cheap and the club's funds hadn't suffered.

Of course, as new committee members without defined roles, Rosemary and I were tasked with organising next year's dance. We sat there in shock while the rest of the agenda was discussed. When the meeting ended I spoke to Rosemary.

"We've been shafted," I said. "We have been given an unpopular task. If we get it wrong?"

"We won't Alan," Rosemary replied. "It won't take much to be better than this year's dance. It was so awful that anything must be better. Come on -- across the road to the pub and let's drown our sorrows while we think about ideas."

I bought two pints of the local bitter and we sat down by a quiet table in a corner of the bar. Rosemary produced a reporter's notebook in which she had been taking notes of the meeting.

"Our first and probably the most major problem," I said, "is the location."

"I agree." Rosemary said. "Our budget doesn't run to the normal places which charge the earth for Valentine's day."

"And it has to be a place which can serve alcohol..." I added.

Because we are an 18+ group, old enough to buy alcohol in the UK, most of our activities include drinking.

"OK. But we have time. If we can find somewhere, we could probably get a one-night alcohol licence if it hasn't now. That would cost twenty-five pounds,"

"But that twenty-five pounds would cut into our budget for hall hire..." I said.

"OK. So where is there that isn't currently a licensed venue but could be?"

"Yes, but where?"

"We could start by asking our friends and the group's members," Rosemary said.

"Judy!"

"Judy? What about Judy? She's a barmaid when she's not at university."

"Judy is more than a barmaid. Yes, she does that sometimes to help out, but she's the landlord's daughter and a licensee in her own right. Her name is over the door of the Railway Hotel alongside her parents. She could advise us on how to get a licence, and possibly run a bar for us..."

"But if we haven't got anywhere, Alan?"

"I know. We don't need anywhere massive. We had thirty people this time."

"We would have had more if the venue and performers were better."

"I think the venue was the real disaster. The trio admitted they were more used to old time dances. We liked the Gay Gordons and the Lancers as a change but their most modern dance was the Lambeth Walk -- the hit of 1939. They were good at what they did. It wasn't their fault that they were totally wrong for our group."

"I'll get the next pints, Alan. While I'm gone, try to think of anywhere we could have a dance, or anyone we know who could help."

When Rosemary returned, we started our pints gloomily. If we couldn't find a venue, anything else we might do was pointless.

"Anyone have a big enough house? Or garden for a marquee?" Rosemary suggested.

"No. Almost all our parents' houses are a similar size. A marquee might be expensive and we'd have to have hired toilets as well. We haven't got that much money."

We sipped some more beer.

"Uncle George!" I said suddenly.

"Who?"

"My uncle George. He has a farm about three miles out of town. In the 1950s he used to have barn dances there. I went to one with my parents."

"We don't want a barn dance, Alan," Rosemary said.

"I know. As it is now, his barn wouldn't do. There's no power. The barn dances were acoustic; the lighting was by hurricane lamps and he was always afraid of fire because it is a wooden barn and people were sitting on hay bales. He insisted that all smoking had to be outside in the brick built former piggery."

"No power? So no amplification? No lighting,,,?"

"But what is my job, Rosemary?"

"You're an electrician?"

"Exactly. And so are some of our other members. We could provide electricity to Uncle George's barn."

"But what about the cost?"

"The labour would be free. The materials? Perhaps Uncle George might sponsor them. He would have a more usable space. It would be probably be less than one hundred pounds."

"We haven't got a hundred pounds, Alan."

"I know. But talking to Uncle George would cost nothing."

We agreed to approach Judy and Uncle George at the weekend -- together.

Until this evening in the pub, Rosemary and I had never been together. We were both club members and had mutual friends but had never been a couple. Only the committee's project had made us reluctant partners in a attempt to organise a dance.

But as I sipped my beer, I thought that working with Rosemary could be enjoyable. She was attractive, intelligent, just someone I had never been with before.

She seemed to like me too. Perhaps there were possibilities. Neither of us had a partner at present. We had, when both of us were studying, but our former partners had moved back home when they qualified, too far away for our relationships to continue. I could do far worse than Rosemary. Apparently she thought so too, because when we parted -- she kissed me on the cheek.

We had agreed to meet on Saturday afternoon, if Uncle George was available, and in the evening try to talk to Judy.

+++

I telephoned Uncle George. He was dubious but agreed to meet Rosemary and I at the barn on Saturday afternoon. I rang Rosemary and arranged to collect her.

Judy would be in the Railway Hotel on Saturday evening and if we came early, say about six pm, she would have time to talk to us.

+++

I rang the doorbell of Rosemary's parents' house. Her mother answered the door. To my surprise she kissed me.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because you are good for Rosemary," Her mother answered. "She was feeling unhappy because of her recent boyfriend, but she thinks you treat her as someone whose opinions you value, Alan."

"Why not? She has a degree. I haven't..."

I was kissed again before I was led into the kitchen. Rosemary jumped up to hug and kiss me while her mother watched with a smile on her face.

"See what I mean, Alan?"

"What do you mean, Mum?" Rosemary asked.

"I said to Alan that you like him because he treats you as if you have a brain."

"He does, unlike the ex who thought I was a blonde bimbo."

I started to say "You're not..." but stopped myself.

"I know, Alan." Rosemary said. "I'm not a real blonde. My natural colour is fair brown. I like being blonde, but being treated as if I hadn't got a thought of my own hurt."

"Have you got time for a cup of tea?" Rosemary's mother asked.

I looked at my watch.

"Yes. My uncle George isn't expecting us until three."

That cup of tea took longer than I expected because mother and daughter were kissing me.

When we arrived at Uncle George's farm he was waiting for us.

"Alan? I'm not sure my barn will do. Yes, we held barn dances here, but I was always worried. The lighting was by hurricane lamps but it's a wooden building. The last time it was used was last year for a matinee performance by the Operatic society. They wanted a schools performance but couldn't use their normal venue during the day..."

So it's still licensed for music and dancing?"

"It is, Alan, but I would only want to use it in daylight."

We walked into the barn. It had a stage at one end, a bar at the other, and through a side door there were toilets.

Uncle George pointed at the toilet access.

"There are male and female toilets but the women complained that they were very cold. There is no heating..."

"Or lighting because no electricity?"

"Yes, Alan."

"OK, uncle. What if I and other electricians installed power and lighting?"

"That would make it more useable, but..."

"The cost might be too much?"

"Exactly."

"If we did the work for free and got the supplies at trade prices, could you afford the materials? That would probably be less than one hundred pounds."

Uncle George was obviously thinking.

"Maybe, but if you could provide power to some of the other buildings? I could let them out for small businesses. They could use the toilets by the barn and there is plenty of parking..."

"I think that would be a reasonable arrangement, George," I said.

"Let's have a cup of tea while I consider what needs doing," George said.

It took longer than that. Uncle George would have to consult the local council about whether he needed planning permission. He wouldn't need it to provide power, but he would need the planning permission before the buildings could be used. He agreed we could start providing power and he would apply for planning permission. If he didn't get it, he could still use the buildings himself. We had a hall that would have lighting and power, and heating for hot water and warmth in the toilets.

+++

That evening we went to see Judy. We discussed the possibility of getting a licence to serve alcohol. She agreed that she could apply, in her own name as an already registered licensee, but asking for one for a single event would cost the same as a continuous one.

Apart from the cost of the licence she could supply all drinks to be paid for by the people at the Valentine's Day dance, or at any other events. Uncle George's barn could become a significant venue throughout the year.

Rosemary and I agreed to speak again to my Uncle George. If he had an all-year-round venue he might make money from it. We also discussed who we could ask for the music.

"My brother Bruce," Judy said. "He is a drummer for a newly formed group at the University. They're very new so far, having been together for three weeks only and have yet to perform in public. But I think they have possibilities, and not just because Bruce is my brother."

"Could you talk to Bruce and ask if his group could play at our dance?" Rosemary asked.

"I will," Judy replied, "but whether they will be competent, or even together by then? I don't know."

We left it with Judy. She will get the licence and ask her brother.

Rosemary and I just sat together in the pub for a few beers. We felt pleased with our progress so far. We probably had a venue, a licence for it, and maybe a group -- not bad for less than a fortnight. But I and the group's electricians had many weekends of work to do.

I would ask all of them during the next week and hoped to start work next Saturday, even if it was only me at first.

Rosemary and I, now we had started on the arrangements for next year's dance, started talking about ourselves. Although we knew each other, it was as part of a wider group of friends. We had seen and talked to each other at events but only when there was no one else.

We were surprised at how well we got on with each other and that we had several interests in common. We were finding out that we liked each other, not just as forced co-operators in organising the dance.

We agreed to meet tomorrow, just for a morning walk and then lunch. I was surprised by how much I liked the idea of meeting Rosemary.

+++

We met by the coffee kiosk in the local park. We walked along the canal towpath until the canal went into a tunnel. We turned around to walk the other way. After the turn, Rosemary slid her hand into mine. I lifted our linked hands.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why not?" Rosemary replied. "I like you, Alan. It feels right to me to hold hands. You don't object?"

"Of course not," I said.

"Good."

I was still surprised when she pulled me into a kiss.

"And that's for thinking I have a brain, Alan."

She wrapped an arm around my waist as we walked back to the coffee kiosk where we stopped for a drink. When we finished, Rosemary kissed me again. We walked for another hour before going to the Railway Hotel for lunch.

Judy came across to speak to us.

"I've had a word with Bruce," She said. "and he has spoken to the rest of his group. They will perform at your dance for ten pounds. It will be their first public engagement and having it has made them coalesce as a group. But they need somewhere to practise because their parents are objecting to the noise, Could they use the barn?"

"Not yet. We haven't started on the electrical supplies," I said. "But we might have a basic supply in within a month. That do?"

"Probably, Alan. As long as their parents know there is an end date, they will possibly cope."

+++

It actually took us six weeks. The electricity board insisted on a completely separate metered supply. With one of Uncle George's farm workers operating a mini digger we laid an armoured cable from the nearest public supply point into a new meter in the piggery. The piggery was the smallest of Uncle George's unused farm buildings. We were able to dryline it and install a kitchen that had been replaced by one of the group's parents.

The pop group had their first practice on the seventh weekend. Rosemary and I listened. We thought they were very good, far better than we expected. In a few months' time they should be more than adequate for our dance.

Uncle George was very pleased with the electrical work. It might take him until next year to get planning permission for workshop units but the barn could be used now, with an alcohol licence for supplies by Judy.

There was a fish and chip supper dance in November and two Christmas dances. Each time I had to be present, helped by Rosemary, to make sure the electrical systems were properly operational. They were and by the New Year we were confident the systems could handle any load.

Also, by then, Rosemary and I was acknowledged as boyfriend and girlfriend, spending most of our free time together. We were enjoying each other's company.

During the first week in January, Bruce's pop group wanted me to help as they recorded some demo songs. They had found a professional recording artist but his requirements for power were complex and I had to make sure the temporary cables were safe.

Rosemary and I had been reporting to each committee meeting about our progress. Tickets for the dance, at fifteen pounds per couple, had gone on sale in November and were sold out by the January meeting for a total of eighty people -- forty couples. The hall was licensed for a hundred but we felt that eighty was enough.

One evening Rosemary and I were sitting on her parents' settee when Judy rang.

"Rosemary? You should turn on the television in half an hour. Bruce's group are on Top of the Pops."

"They're what? On the TV? Tonight? Oh shit!"

"What do you mean, Rosemary? That's good news."

"It is -- for them. But for us and our dance? We're going to be swamped with people wanting to be at their first live performance. But thanks anyway, Judy. We'll watch."

Rosemary and I watched. They weren't just good. They were brilliant, performing one of their own compositions.

But the consequences for us were dire. Hundreds of people wanted tickets. We sold ten more, the maximum we could hold. Some of those who already had tickets resold them for four or more times the face value.

We had to arrange with Police for traffic management because so many people just wanted to turn up to see the group arrive. I had to arrange for external speakers so that the thousand or so people without tickets could hear the group.

There were two TV companies' crews inside the barn and a radio programme being broadcast live. The dance floor was so crowded because space had been taken by the broadcasters that there was barely room to do more than dance on the spot. Before the group started playing, in front the cameras I had to formally hand over a ten pound note as their first earnings. By the time of the dance their first record was number three in the UK charts and rising.

It was a great occasion but as a Valentine Dance for the 18+ group it was a disaster. Many of those with tickets weren't members. The members were frightened by the crowds outside. Almost no one could actually dance.

+++

At the March Committee Meeting, immediately before the AGM, Rosemary and I were criticised. The dance had been nothing like that the committee had wanted. The media attention was unwanted, and the crowds had caused traffic chaos for hours. Rosemary and I laughed at the committee and announced that both of us were resigning and would have to be replaced at the AGM in a few minutes.

We also told them that we were now engaged, and as well as resigning from the committee, we were resigning as 18+ group members. We had joined to meet people. We had met each other, and each other's company was enough for us, thank you. I formally put an engagement ring on Rosemary's finger and we left the committee hand in hand.

Next year, someone else can have the problem of the Valentine's Day dance...