I’ve shot myself in the foot. Not literally of course. That would make Let’s Dance too big a challenge, even for me and I love a challenge. It’s the final week and I’m beginning to realise quite how difficult my routine is. Problem is, I chose it.
Nothing highlights the limitations of your body than a physical test like this, especially when you’re working alongside a trained dancer, svelte in body and light of foot. I’m slightly reassured as all around me, from other rehearsal rooms I can hear the near-silent swish of the choreographer demonstrating the moves then the thunderous thumping of us Let’s Dancers trying to copy them.
I have a new found respect for dancers. How do they remember all those move?! I’m constantly forgetting what comes next, panicking, then doing anything which can be as random as a star jump or just sticking out my tongue. I boldly declared on the first day, ‘yeah, I’m more of a freestyler’ translation: I usually just jerk around vaguely in time to the music and hope it looks planned.
So far, my biggest issue has been turns. Dancers make them look so easy but they could well be my Waterloo. Watch on the night as I do a turn and you’ll see a flicker of surprise when or if should I say, I find myself facing forward and upright.
I’m surprised how far outside of my comfort zone this has been. I’ve had four micro cries already. One was brought on by telling someone about the first three cries. There’s been a fair few times when I’ve been curled up on the cold wooden floor asking if I could just tell jokes for my two minute routine. You know, in the style of the act I should be dancing as. No one will spot the difference, I whimpered. Alternatively I may suggest the BBC change the name of the show to Let’s Just See Shall We?