Busted

Ever since my last weekend class, my head has been swimming as I try and re-create moves and steps from memory. I also seem to have become surgically attached to my ipod as I circulate between Di sarli, Gotan, Campo, Pugliese etc. Unfortunately, this has led to the following embarrassing incidents this week:
1) Walking to work through the back streets, I came to a particularly dramatic phrase in a waltz, started twirling, turned the corner and came smack bang in front of two office workers having an early morning cigarette. I nonchalantly had to keep going, my cheeks scarlet and find a new route home.

2) While waiting for the water to boil in the small kitchen at work, I started weight transferring and then added a few tiny embellishments. These became progressively bigger until I was almost doing a forward gancho. Oh course, someone came in at that precise moment and now they will either wonder what crazy dance move I was doing or why I was scratching my left thigh with my right leg?

3) My company’s bathroom is a large room with smooth tiles that is brilliant for practicing my giros. I quite often try a sneaky few if the room is empty as the floor is much better than at my home. Yesterday, as I was just about to leave however, I suddenly saw the wash basin and realised in a flash of inspiration that it might be a good stabiliser for me to practice my backwards boleos. Just as I was getting the right height and swing, a woman from another company came in and in a moment of madness, I pretend to be checking the back of my shoe! — touching the heel and making a big play of checking its stability. As she walked into a cubicle, I saw the look of bewilderment on her face and now I feel so embarrassed I wouldn’t be able to face her; apart from the fact that in my sheer panic I didn’t exactly register which woman she was. So now, I just cringe whenever I see anyone blonde from that side of the building.