Cat Char in the Ryhill

He struts onto the stage. He calls the multitude to assemble before him. There is a hushed silence as the populace hangs on his every word. (I wish!)

The first dance is a masterpiece of symmetry. Obediently they follow the call. The patterns are beautiful to watch. All is well in the world. Then comes dance two!

It never ceases to amaze me how people can misinterpret, what seems to me to be, the simplest of instructions. There must be a dedicated gremlin that afflicts callers. It was certainly present on Sunday. The second dance was a shambles.

Of course the caller is always wrong – I may have misunderstood the notation. I may have misread the instructions. Perhaps the mike wasn’t working properly! Then again it could be good old-fashioned incompetence. Sometimes I just get it wrong!

So how long have I got to put things right? A whole 3 days – calling again on Wednesday. This time it will be to people who (should) know what they are doing. Of course that also means I have to do harder dances and the crowd will be more critical. Remember the KISS principle I tell myself.

Friday will be even worse. This crowd takes no prisoners. Luckily I’m sharing with another caller. Nevertheless he won’t shield me from all the brickbats.

Why do I do it? I guess I enjoy it (a form of masochism no doubt). Hopefully the dancers get some pleasure out of it as well – they were certainly laughing a lot while they were going wrong.

If I’m really honest I would have to admit that being centre stage, if only for a short time, takes me away from being one of the faceless unemployed.