In a recent episode of BBC’s Endeavour, DCI Thursby (a much more interesting character than hero ‘young Morse’) won a tango contest dancing with his wife.
They maintained the dramatic posture and haughty manner but, for me, it didn’t ring true. There was gaucho menace, certainly, but what about hissed complaints from wife to husband, then his gritted responses?
She Who Knows and I attend afternoon tea dances now that, as with Thursby, retirement time has arrived. But it’s rare my performance earns praise, let alone prizes. Of course, it doesn’t help we’ve both got arthritis, particularly her poor love.
“You’re gripping me too tight!” she’ll protest, shaking our clasped hands, “and please, keep your left arm lower.”
Then her own tired arm becomes a dead weight during twirls and my hand accidentally brushes her freshly coiffured hair as she swings underneath. This prompts an exasperated sigh and wifely glare.
“You’re making my shoulder ache!” I explain.
However, none of these setbacks occur with other male ‘leads’ – especially tutors, whom she occasionally partners. “Oh, he supported me so firmly,” she’ll enthuse afterwards, adding, “You should feel the muscles on his arms!”
She Who’s a natural, however, at that unflinching eye-contact in steamy Latin numbers. But this is not always inspired by passion.
“You’ve got two hairs sticking out of your left nostril,” she complained recently, adding with dismay, “What’s more, they’re grey!”
This all helps build an atmosphere of drama and emotion as we join other couples manoeuvring each other around the ballroom in quicksteps and foxtrots.
Perhaps Thursby keeps his lips buttoned until next day, when sharing a pint at the local with young Morse and eating his sandwiches. However, that scene doesn’t ring true either.
Try munching on your home-made butties in a pub at lunchtime, you’ll soon get your collar felt!
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