Tag Archives: ball

1591. A terrible conundrum

What a conundrum it was for Geraldine. Here she was in her early twenties and not once had she ever been asked out on a date by a man. Sure, an older brother took her to the Prom, probably because he felt a bit sorry for her. It wasn’t that she was ugly or anything; in fact, she was quite pretty. And she wasn’t boring. She was vivacious, intelligent, charming, practical, and capable. Why no man would not want to date her was really beyond comprehension.

She had promised her sister that she would babysit the two little children while her sister and husband had a well-deserved night off at the village gala ball. And now, look what happened! Arnie Beukenholdt invited Geraldine to the same ball.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Geraldine. “I can’t go. I promised my sister I’d babysit.”

“Oh well,” said Arnie. “Not to worry.”

Of course, come the night of the ball and Geraldine’s sister phoned to say she had caught a cold so the babysitting wasn’t required. Quite frankly, Geraldine was down in the dumps. Arnie Beukenholdt was possibly the handsomest man on the block, and a wonderful sportsman. And such a lovely personality. He wasn’t exactly made of money, but he was hard-working and comfortable. Arnie and Geraldine were made for each other. Geraldine half dialled Arnie’s phone number and then lost confidence.

Then! Oh would you believe! Such things usually only happen in Victorian novels but here it happened in real life! The phone rang! It was Arnie.

“So,” he said, “I wanted to catch you before you went babysitting. If you can’t go to the ball, what about next Thursday?”

Geraldine explained to him what happened. Hasty preparations were made. Geraldine didn’t have time to even do her hair properly. Arnie picked her up in his run-down beaten old car and they went to the ball.

How they danced the night away!

1534: Ballroom dancing

(The opening sentence for this story was suggested by nananoyz of Praying for Eyebrowz.  If you want to join in the fun of suggesting a future opening sentence for these stories, click here for a peek as to what’s what.)

Jane’s biggest regret in life was that she’d never danced. To be honest, she wasn’t exactly Swan Lake material.

No that’s not what I meant, said Jane. I was not thinking of ballet. I was thinking more of ballroom dancing.

In fact, Jane wasn’t thinking exactly of ballroom dancing either. She was thinking more of how lovely it would be to be in the arms of one of those male dance partners one sees on television. One of them could fling her all over the place, and then they would dance on and on and on. In fact they would dance into the sunset. They would fall in love and get married and have a pile of kids. And the handsome ballroom dancer would come home from a day of working to support his wife and children, and before the wonderful dinner she had prepared they would dance a quick foxtrot in the living room. Yes, that’s really what Jane wanted. Not simply a dance, but a dancer.

And then she went to the parish ball, and it was very bright and lovely with coloured lights and a wonderful band. And Jane sat against a wall on a long form next to another person who was also a wallflower. And then Jane saw a man approach. He was very handsome indeed. Jane’s heart kind of fluttered, but he asked the girl next to her for the dance. And Jane smiled like she was really enjoying the occasion but in truth she wanted to cry.

Then quite suddenly there was a man’s voice next to her. She never saw him approach.

“Would you like to dance?” he said. “I know people might think it silly but I’d love it if you would dance with me.”

Jane said “Yes!” and she and Mervyn (for that was his name) danced the whole night away. The things Mervyn could do in his wheel chair! Backwards, forwards, spins and slides. You wouldn’t believe what a show-off he was! Quite frankly, Jane lost all respectability and danced like there was no tomorrow. They were named the “couple of the ball” and stole the show with their celebration jive.

That was over forty-five years ago. Mervyn is long dead. But Jane delights in teaching her grandchildren how to dance. No! No! Not ballet. Ballroom dancing.

865. Having a ball

865coach

Cinderella’s horrible step-mother turned a blind eye to the goings-on of her two horrible daughters. Money was going missing out of purses and wallets. Lots of money. And the two ugly sisters somehow managed to wear something different every day.

“Money is going missing out of purses and wallets,” said Cinderella’s father. “Does anyone know anything about it?”

“It’ll be Cinderella,” said the sisters. “She’s not to be trusted.”

Cinderella was made to clean out the scullery twice daily for a good two weeks.

“You naughty, deceitful, thieving hussy,” said the wicked step-mother.

Come the preparations for the palace ball and you’ve never seen such a commotion. Bodices and brassieres and negligees and pantyhose and chemises and gowns and shoes and jewellery and… what a mess the house was in with preparations. And then came the night of the ball… Off the two sisters went (with the step-mother and Cinderella’s father in tow). Were they mutton dressed as lamb or what? Cougars in gowns and thongs. Cinderella was left at home to “tidy up after all the preparations”.

Quickly she threw on her gorgeous ball gown and special glass shoes. The coach (with footmen) arrived. Off she went! And there wasn’t a fairy godmother in sight.