So, we’re on the move, yet again. I’ve been thinking a lot about simple living and decluttering recently, and moving from a three bedroom house to a two bedroom flat is probably a good chance to do something about it. There’s something quite freeing about ditching clutter related to a person I once was, and all the psychic baggage that goes along with it.
More than ten years after quitting ballet, I think it’s probably time to get rid of the five(!) pairs of ballet shoes I’ve been carting around.
I never was particularly good at ballet, but I stuck with it for six grades and eleven years. I was always the slightly tubby one at the back with the untied ribbons and failed bun. In the early days I suppose I did have dreams of performing at Sadler’s Wells, or studying at Juilliard (like Jessi of the Babysitter’s Club! – actually those books have a lot to answer for. Mostly the Claudia Kishi inspired outfits I dared to wear).
However, I gradually came to realise that my bones were too hefty, my head was the wrong shape and I lacked, well, talent of any kind. So I never made it to the stages of London or New York. I did, however, reach the dizzying heights of Porthcawl’s Grand Pavilion – as a pirate in Peter Pan, a male dancer in Cinderella (I was quite often a man, being one of the taller ones in the class!), and a bellydancer in Aladdin. There were some wobbles – I remember going up a grade and being very unhappy that my new class was the same time as Neighbours, which was completely unmissable of course. Generally though I really enjoyed it and learnt a lot.
I have, however, just tried on the old pointe shoes and almost broken my ankle, so I think it’s time to let them go…