O Apple Tree, Thou Art Sick

I'm afraid this post is going to sound like the stereotypical country song. In short, the apple tree is sick and most apples that appeared rotted on the branches. The roses are gone as they have been replaced by a wooden fence. Benedict Ambrose still needs wheelchairs. Yesterday a cute little dog suddenly bit me as I was striding past her to accompany some young friends to swing dancing class. (In this context I can write, "What a nasty little bitch.")  

The waiting time to speak to someone at the NHS hotline was 90 minutes, and this morning I am told by our local surgery that they can't see me and I must call someone at the NHS hotline. Happily I am not as frantic as I was yesterday evening, for it eventually dawned on me that my husband kept banging on about tetanus shots because there's almost no rabies in the UK. 

In happier news, I now have my very own website. Here it is. Long-time readers will want to bookmark it, for blogging here on Blogger, my online home since 2006, will be but sporadic. You will also be interested in the blogpost I took down to send elsewhere and has now been published here by Dr. Peter Kwasniewski. I'm delighted that the great Dr. K. wrote an introduction and that his son Julian included his own defence of dancing underneath. 

It's a long read, and it has enflamed the wrath of a small but vociferous group attached to the idea that social dancing is immoral. They say they have saints on their side, the Kwasniewskis and I and our backers in the comments boxes have other saints (and Scripture) on our side--it's all a jolly bunfight. It certainly proves our point against those commentators who initially scoffed and said, "No Catholic has problems with ballroom dancing! What are you even talking about?" Now commentators are wailing, "Oh why are you dividing the community with this Highly Controversial Topic?"

Or they were wailing. Dr. K has turned off the comments, as he was too busy or sleeping to moderate further. (Goodness, that makes me wonder which comments I haven't seen.)

While the battle raged online--principally over Facebook--I sat at the very back of an Edinburgh bus cleaning my dog bitten leg with an antiseptic wipe and then went to swing-dance class where men and women stood at a chaste distance from each other in a circle and learned the basic steps to the 8-count Lindy Hop. Afterwards I practised with one young friend while two other young friends danced up a storm with classmates or the Advanced People. It was great fun and my rage against stupid and irresponsible dog owners ("She's only a puppy!") dissipated as I danced. 

Here's something no-one has mentioned in the Catholic/Jansenist bunfight: the virtue of dancing in dispelling such very serious sins as wrath, sloth and pride. Everyone bangs on about lust, but as Julian K argues, social dances are too complicated for lust to take hold. Therefore, I would argue (as does Julian) that ballroom dancing might even prevent lust. It's 1-2-3 or 1-2-3-&-4 for three minutes, tops, and then onto the next person. Nobody swaying in a bear hug, as was common in my youth, to "Stairway to Heaven."

Of course, there may be people who are such slaves to concupiscence that merely clasping the hand, arm or shoulder blade of a random member of the opposite sex sends them into paroxysms of lust and longing. In that case, no, that person shouldn't dance. In fact, he or she should probably have a word with a good priest or a sympathetic psychiatrist. (Dr. Freud loathed Christianity, and we Christians really do have to pick our therapists with care.) All I ask is that they not tell everyone else they may not dance either. 

Anyway, with that happy thought, I will invite you to my wonderful new website, which is still under construction, so it will flourish and grow under your eyes. I hope it will encourage readers to discover, learn and practise the riches of social life that are our western Christian birthright.