Tag Archives: Stokies

Lucky Bob

Well the last three weeks have been some of my best for tango. The vagaries of my rota means that it moves forward one day every week. So when we hit the Wilmslow stepping out milonga on a Thursday I was overjoyed to find Tango Stafford had a milonga on the following Friday. I was late finding out and almost missed it, but we arrived there with friends and had a great time.

Dragging friends with us has become our trademark although the group we managed for Wilmslow was not repeated. The third week on the run we had a milonga to go to, this time it was Stokies on a Saturday night. We only managed to drag one extra woman along but that did not detract from our enjoyment.

For the great nights we have had, I must offer my thanks, to Atilla for Wilmslow, Pauline and Geoff for Stafford, and last but not least Essie Joe and Nath for Stokies. To manage three milongas in three weeks is something of a record for me, but, of course, we have had our regular practicas to look forward to.
Unfortunately for the next couple of weeks we are away, so the tango has to stop for us, but we will be back with a bang on 14th October.
We are off walking, trying to get into shape for our marathon walk next year. So we are having a week in the lakes, and hopefully a return to The Sandstone Trail. Where we expect to not only walk the trail but with luck and a following wind, walk to and from it. Wish me luck, I’ll need it.
On the subject of getting fit, I cycled home this morning in the light rain and I am starting to quite enjoy it. The trouble is this will probably be the last time I cycle to work. I refuse to loose any more sleep than I have to, so I only cycle when I am on nights. Five in the morning is just too early. I only have eleven night shifts to go and I suspect when I return from holiday the weather will be too inclement for me to cycle in. So there it is, the end of another era.

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September Break

With Viv not wanting to do the epic South America flights and the appalling weather we have been having, I have left any plans up in the air. I fully intended to take a cheap flight to Spain if the weather deteriorated again, but for now we were in flux.

I spent the first weekend at the Corwen walking festival, but the week-time just seemed to fly by. Of course there was dancing almost every night. Our Monday practica did not need to be cancelled and we had a few private classes during the week.

So the next weekend arrived at breakneck speed. Again we were away, we took the caravan down to Telford, staying at our favourite Severn Valley Gorge campsite.It was off to the Ludlow Food Festival Saturday. Cheese, Sausage, pies, all there for the tasting. Left me with no room for actual lunch. In the evening we lit the barbie and cremated some Pen-Y-Lan pork sausages outside the van. While I serenaded Viv with the out of tune broken guitar I bought for a tenner at the Sue Rider shop.

On Sunday we headed out towards Stafford, where Geoff and Pauline Hudson were holding their monthly milonga. The great thing about holidays is you can get out and explore places you don’t normally get to, so we made the most of it.

It was a great venue and everyone was friendly. We caught up with some old friends we have not seen for some time. The Stokies crowd were there, some from Shrewsbury, even Manchester. Makes me ashamed that I only travel when I am off.

Geoff had been cooking (I suspect Pauline was also involved) so we had some great food. Geoff did his DJ bit faultlessly and we left very happy. Geoff, Pauline, Nat Stoke bloke and Essy Joe all came out to wave us goodbye at the end. 

We had to get back of course, Tango Gresford was back on again Monday. Don’t stop the tango train.

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Distant Tanguera

Unusually this week we started the dance in full sun. It was nice for a change to have all the doors and windows open.

Numbers were a bit disappointing, but I suppose everyone was out with their barbeques. Still the numbers were boosted at about half eight when Candi arrived with her partner Yanis (is that the right spelling?). We had some Comme Il Faut shoes for her and she was just itching to try them out. The best thing for me about Viv bringing shoes over is I get the virgin dance almost every time. There really is something special for the ladies when they dance for the first time in their Comm Il Faut’s, so it is a real honour for me to lead these shoes into their first dance.

Candi has travelled all the way from Stoke to be with us tonight, so I am more than glad to pass on a few moves, we have to be careful though as we don’t want this to turn into a class. Another benefit of her coming is that now she realises just how far it is. I get frequent invites to Stokies and much as I would love to go, the distance makes it impractical. When I work nights, obviously it is impossible, but when I am on days I would have to leave about nine in order to get a decent sleep. I would be just too tired after work, so that leaves about one day in eight. Oh well maybe someday soon.

 Tonight we had Angel D’Agostino and Francisco Canaro as our artists. Candi quizzed me about Canaro and I am afraid my knowledge is not as good as it should have been. Part of the problem, of course, is that no one has ever quizzed me before on the artists, from now on I must swat up before the dance. It really is good to have someone who is interested, and it makes me learn as well.

Just for Candi; Canaro played Violin and made recordings from 1915-1973. (despite dying in 1964) I hope I am forgiven my lack of knowledge.

Arriving a bit later meant that she missed my favourite D’Agostino track “Café Dominguez” but I danced it with Viv and for three minutes was transported back to Confiteria Ideal in Buenos Aires.

Our practicas look less like dances with every passing one, when Candi arrived she commented that she was sorry to have arrived in the middle of our supper. I suppose the sight of everyone sat around the table eating, and no one dancing must have confused somewhat. Still we were soon up dancing again, although the draw of that fabulous Stilton was proving too hard to resist. (There was little left at the end of the night).

I must have had some sort of premonition that it would be a long night, normally I time La Cumparsita to come on at eleven, tonight though it was almost twenty to twelve and there were still four of us, eating, dancing, and talking rubbish, fuelled by Argentine wine, Ginger beer, and the last of my Gin.

I did not take much rocking when I finally hit the sack at after one o’clock, I will get these people into the Buenos Aires way, one day.


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