If you met me you would probably think I was an eighteen stone, ex-rugby playing, northern male. This is of course true but I do have a softer side that has been revealed over time whilst bringing up four beautiful daughters. I occasionally cry at sad films, notice what my wife is wearing, and try to phone my mother once a week.
Anyway this week the man described above was invited to a performance of modern dance by the Leeds based company known as the Phoenix Modern Dance Company.
I agreed to go because a very close family friend is one of their performers.
In a way I was only going to offer support knowing that I have rarely understood or enjoyed dance.
We arrived at the venue and there was a sense of anticipation from the crowd and I felt it easy to get caught up with the general buzz.
The dance started and I have to say that I was immediately captivated by everything that I saw. It was truly amazing. The strength, the agility, the control, the grace, the passion; It was almost too much to believe.
After the first act I compared note with Mrs M and the parents of our star dancer. The female members of the party seemed to get every nuance of the movement and hidden storyline whilst I, and the dancer's father, were slightly bemused.
It wasn't that we didn't appreciate what we saw; it was amazing. It was that the story that our wives described didn't seem obvious to us.
I concluded that modern dance, as with all other art forms, has its own language. If, as I was, you are unaware of its subtleties you will not fully understand what is being communicated.
The second act started and I tried to concentrate a little harder, hoping to catch up with Mrs M and our friend in order to understand the story.
Once again it was quite simply breath taking; it was passionate without being gratuitous. It was energetic without being frantic.
At the end my bride asked for my opinion on the storyline. I figured that the slow bits were trying to express a different narrative that the fast bits but I just couldn't offer a coherent explanation.
The females seemed to just get it without explanation, whilst we males were in awe but none the wiser.
Did I enjoy the evening; one hundred percent. Did I understand what was happening; not at all. Would I go again; in a heartbeat.
It was an incredible experience and I took the time to express my gratitude to all concerned.
It seems that appreciating other people's worlds does not rely upon understanding the local language. It just takes a certain open mindedness and a willingness to turn up.
If this eighteen-stone, ex-rugby player can do it, and then anyone can do it. Well-done Phoenix Dance Company. If only I could dance.
Modern Dance - Old Fashioned Dad
Thouroughly Modern Milieu
Football season is well with us and its effect upon our family life is very evident at the moment. Not because everyone who either lives in our house, or visits occasionally to eat our food or have their laundry done, wants to watch it.
In fact I am the only one who has a passion for the beautiful game, occasionally joined by my two son-in-laws.
I try not to be too obsessive about it but I struggle to keep quite when the girls and Mrs M put on America's Next Top Model whilst the live footie is on the other side.
I tend to sit and look ever so slightly forlorn so that eventually my bride suggest that I go to the pub to watch the match: success.
Last week I returned from one such trip to the hostelry to join in with a discussion between two of my daughters and their mother. Mrs Molineaux's youngest had been in a lecture about the sociology of movies and been set the task of explaining term Post-Modernity.
It turns out that in essence my wife and I have been generally influenced by modernity in that we were brought up with a worldview that we thought was shared by everybody. We watched the same TV programmes as most other people (we only had three channels to choose from) and we would see many of our neighbours on our annual holiday (Prestatyn was like our village but with a beach). In this world there was only one truth and we all shared in it.
Our daughters are all post-modern children and as such they are full of questions and see the world more as a global village. For them the status quo is there to be challenged. There are many truths on offer; take your pick.
In our youth getting a colour telly and an extra channel was mind blowing; for them having seven-hundred channels to choose from is just mundane.
During their deep (very deep) conversation I thought I would add a question that would be of help: 'can any of you explain the offside rule?'
They stared at me for a moment before expressing their lack of reverence for all things football. They are feisty girls, however, and couldn't resist a challenge so it wasn't long before they were trying to offer an explanation.
The ketchup, salt and pepper pots, vinegar bottle, and butter knife were all in position as the girls offered several different versions of the offside rule; non of which were right.
Mrs M stepped up to the table and I was confident that she would provide the answer, because I had spent some considerable time explaining it to her when we were newly married. To my horror she got it wrong and I had to step in to put them all right.
I challenged my bride on why she had forgotten all that I had taught her and she answered with a smile 'football isn't the only sport you know'.
How post-modern is she.
Are new parents the real cause of Global Warming?
A friend at work has just returned after the birth of his first child. He looked a little tired but manged to cover it with a smile that fooled everyone except those who had children of their own.
We knew! To us it was obvious. That slight redness in the eyes. The odd gaze into the distance as he struggled to fully engage with the conversation, and the fact that his once imaculate appearance was now, ever so slightly, crumpled.
Not in any really obvious way you understand: the fact that his shirt was slightly under ironed shouted that his wife was otherwise occupied or, if ironing is one of his chores, he didn't have enough energy left to reach his usual standard.
We all asked him how it was going and then proceeded to nod in an understanding way. Each of us experienced parents then took turns in telling a bit of our story.
That is surely the point of other people having babies: so that we get chance to impart our choice bits of parental wisdom
It was probably all a little too much but we meant well.
Amongst the wisdom available were these pearls, which I offer here in the hope that they will either aid you, should you have young children, or bring back memories if yours have now flown the nest.
1. Each child seems to have it's own preferred rhythm that helps them to sleep. Of you find the right song to play out in your head whilst you rock them it can make all the difference.
2. He more the baby sleeps the more they will sleep. (we needed a little more explanation on this one). Basically it means that you shouldn't try to keep the child awake for long periods with the intention of making them tired thinking that this will make them sleep better at night. It won't work.
3. Most babies seem to like noise more than quiet. New parents think that they need to tip toe around and whisper, but experience shows that a normal amount of noise gives some level of security.
Our new parent joined in at this point with the news that his son stops crying when he runs the cold water tap.
At this point it occured to me that the real cause of global warming was rookie parents trying to keep their kids quiet.
If listen ever so carefully you can hear the sound of running taps, hoovers, washing machines, fans, car engines, and Hi-fi's.
We chuckled as we shared stories of late night drives to nowhere desperately trying to get just the smallest amount of peace.
I tried to convince them that the only reason I developed snoring as a regular practice was in order to offer enough household noise to keep the babies from waking but they threatened to check out my story with Mrs M.
With all this in mind I am thinking of inventing an iron that makes a soothing noise as you use it so that way my colleague can keep his son quiet whilst attempting to keep up his usual well-kept appreance.
