The Michaelmas Dance

Photos? You want photos? Someone took photos, but I haven't seen any yet. However, I can assure you that it did happen. 

The Michaelmas Dance took place on Michaelmas from 8:00 PM to 11:00 PM in a much-developed 19th century parish hall quite big enough for the 60 people (including musicians) who came. There were two duos: a pianist and violinist to play the polonaise and the waltzes and an accordion player and guitarist for the ceilidh dances. There was an interval from about 9 until about 9:55 for wine, savouries, cake, tea and cake. At the end of the dance, everyone sang "Auld Lang Syne" and then "Salve Regina."

We began with the Prayer of St. Michael, a reproduction of whose portrait by Guido Reni sat on easel. The 27"x 20" paint-brush print was dwarfed by both the room and the easel, which I didn't expect. Next time it can stand on a chair. 

There were 64 dance cards, 50 of them attached to little blue pencils. Next time I will think to appoint an MC, and the MC will be able to explain that anyone, not just ladies, can use them and take them away as souvenirs. When I collected the unused ones afterwards, I discovered that only 28 had been taken, which was the number of non-musician ladies at the dance. 

Indeed, I had thought of everything except an MC, and thus the dancing began rather quietly (with W. Kilar's "Polonaise from Pan Tadeusz") and, like Mrs Dalloway, I feared that "my party" would fall flat. However, I told myself that I was too tired--and it was too soon--to make such a judgement, and I should try to see the event from the eyes of the guests. Happily, by the end of the first hour, I was convinced that the dance was a success, thanks to the smiles of the guests and--thank the heavens--the mingling of Edinburghers with visitors from other Scottish cities and towns.   

I made too much food and Benedict Ambrose bought too much wine, but that is no bad thing, as we happily sent a carrot cake for 36 home with a tall undergraduate with flatmates and took home a chocolate cake and 25 bottles of wine for ourselves. I do regret, however, the hours I spent making 163 spanakopita triangles. Making and freezing them was rather fun, but baking all of them on the day of the dance was tiring and stressful and by the time a kindly Polish lad put me, B.A., the wine, 64 wine glasses, and a good many other things into his car, I was exhausted. 

However, I was also nicely dressed, having found a green-blue silk dress with an ornate, jewelled collar on eBay and wound my Maclean tartan sash around it. My freshly washed hair was in a bun, and I made a concession to jollity by wearing lipstick. B.A. was wearing his kilt and a "day jacket" as the event was semi-formal, not formal, although I am glad this did not deter those men who own dinner jackets from wearing them. 

As B.A. and I are car-free (poverty, not politics), it was a rare trip (in both senses of the word) to speed along in a non-bus to central Edinburgh feeling like everything was now out of my hands and only Divine Providence could ensure that all the musicians would be there when I arrived. I checked my phone for messages and found it comical that people had sent me last-minute messages. What is the postal code for the hall? We cannot come after all for we are ill. Father won't let anyone in until you arrive! 

When we did arrive, I found the musicians, a family of guests, and a much-needed volunteer waiting for us. Father let me into the hall, gave me a sheet of instructions which he explained thoroughly, and then bid me a successful event. Then I let the early birds in, put "SOLD OUT Michaelmas Dance" posters on the doors to welcome guests and deter strays, and the began to disembowel the dozen boxes and bags of their wine glasses, cups, plates, saucers, forks, spoons, cake slice, tablecloths, dance cards, paper cups, paper napkins, squash, tea, coffee, wine, carrot cakes, chocolate cakes, cream cheese frosting, buttercream frosting, milk and sugar. Fortunately, guests hovered about asking if they could do anything, so the tables were covered as if by magic, and various glasses, cups, and plates appeared on the two tables in front of the galley kitchen. (Note to self for next time: order three or four.)

After the dance, for which I will be ever grateful, a guest platoon invaded the kitchen, washed everything and packed it away in the various boxes and bags. Thus, I was able to shut and lock the door on the last guests at 11:50 PM and mark that down on the instruction sheet. My heart was in my mouth for, in fact, I had only rented the hall from 7:30 PM until 11:30 PM to save money. 

Ah, the money. So if we included only those things that I originally budgeted for, we did turn a profit to divide between Una Voce Scotland and another TLM society who prefers not to be named. However, the hall turned out not to have those things which, as a tea lady, I have come to expect, and I was incensed by the pick-up-and-delivery charges of a local crockery-renter, so I bought them. But of course, B.A. and I now own all that stuff and have all that wine. Thus, we will send donations to UVS et alia anon. It's all very robbing Peter to pay Paul, but pay or play, as they say in Georgette Heyer's novels. 

My reward, if we want to think in those terms, was seeing dozens of Catholics--none of them over 60, by the way, and most of them under 35--who love the Traditional Latin Mass (or like Catholics who do) galloping up and down and around the hall in "The Flying Scotsman" and "Strip the Willow," which I watched with great contentment from the apertures between the kitchen and the hall. 

I was also delighted to see young men crossing the floor to ask women, young and middle-aged, to waltz, and my cup ran over when I overheard a young man ask a young lady if she could reserve one of the spaces on her dance card for him. My plot to bring back the best of the 1890s was clearly working. (Later I discovered that girls had lobbied other girls to ask their brothers to ask them to dance, which was probably also very much according to pre-war mores.)

***

I spent Saturday cleaning the house, literally scrubbing the kitchen floor with an old nailbrush and pine disinfectant. On Sunday Benedict Ambrose and I went to Mass, I served the after-Mass tea (with much help, especially in the cleaning up), and then we made dinner for my usual Waltzing Party dance instructors. Over supper we all discussed the Michaelmas Dance in great detail, deciding what worked and what could be improved and when we should have another one.  

Stay tuned.