and other forms of dancing, are to be made compulsory in all secondary schools in China, I felt a twinge of envy – and regret. Dancing is one of the most exhilarating, liberating and happy-making activities on earth. As long as I can remember I’ve wished that there were more opportunities to dance in everyday life.
I know that people still give balls and dance at weddings and that the immense popularity of has spawned dance classes all over the country. But nevertheless actual dancing (as opposed to gyrating) is now regarded as faintly ridiculous. In China the aim is to tackle youth obesity and to improve “social graces”.
We also need to tackle these problems, but if such a policy were proposed in Britain, it would immediately be laughed out of court. In the past, dancing was much more part of ordinary life – at parties, in dance halls, and at home. The most enjoyable and memorable dinner party I’ve ever been to was one where the hosts rolled back the carpet and I whirled around into the early hours with the great Paddy Leigh Fermor (author, traveller and soldier).
But that was a very long time ago. How I wish that at least some of the many gyms in our cities could be converted into dance halls and our Australian personal fitness trainers into dance-masters. One of the few places where dancing still seems to thrive is in old-age homes.
At least that’s something to look forward to. In England, the smoking ban now extends to theatrical productions – unless, that is, it can be shown that lighting up on stage is “integral to the plot”. But what about smoking being integral to character?
In Scotland, where there are no exceptions to the ban, the comedian Mel Smith was forced to put away his cigar while playing Winston Churchill. How, one wonders, would the authorities in England react in such a case? Would they decree that a smoking Churchill was illegal (something for which the theatre management could face a fine of £2,500)?
The whole thing is especially bizarre when you consider that Churchill, who puffed away from morning till night, and his wife Clementine, who must be one of the world’s foremost passive smokers, both survived into their nineties. In one’s own home, too, it has become impossible to smoke even a tiny cigarillo if there are school-age children in the room. When I tried it not long ago while enjoying a pre-dinner drink, the children immediately started reprimanding and lecturing me – and more or less accused me of murder.
They also made gasping and wheezing noises and assured me that smoke made them feel breathless and sick. There was nothing for it but to snuff out my mini Montecristo. This made me realise how easy it is to brainwash children even to the point of causing them to have imaginary – or at any rate self-induced – physical symptoms.
Ten years ago children would hardly have noticed whether anyone was smoking or not. Now, they have been thoroughly indoctrinated at school. This may be a good thing in the case of smoking, but children seem to be bringing home censorious attitudes to various other topics.
The mere mention of George W. Bush, for example, produces an automatic sneer from most of the children I know. Some of the “progressive” political movements of the past 50 years seem to have brought about results that are the exact opposite from those intended.
It could be argued, for example, that comprehensive schooling has reduced rather than increased social mobility; equally that multiculturalism has exacerbated cultural and racial divisions; and teenage pregnancies have risen dramatically along with the introduction of sex education in schools. Yet, until very recently, anyone who doubted the wisdom of these policies was regarded as hopelessly out of touch and right-wing. Ray Honeyford, the headmaster of a school in Bradford, was sacked in the 1980s for voicing his objections to enforced multiculturalism in schools.
I suspect that the same thing may in time apply to the policies now being implemented to combat climate change. The arguments of those meteorologists who say that the study of climate is so complex that its predictions are bound to be unreliable are to me much more persuasive than confident ecological certainties (or global concerts). Legislation may well end up making the world poorer without achieving the desired outcome.
Like millions of other women, I am a complete sucker when it comes to cosmetics. Even though I know perfectly well that the companies that make them earn enormous fortunes from our gullibility and vanity, I’m still irresistibly drawn to creams and “serums”, especially with scientific-sounding names, preferably manufactured in Swiss laboratories. Recently, for example, I paid a huge sum of money for a pot of Lancôme face-cream with the risible name of Rénergie Morpholift.
Here’s just one of the claims printed on the accompanying leaflet: “In four weeks, 72 per cent noticed that their facial contours appear re-defined, 80 per cent found that their skin is firmer, and 80 per cent saw that their skin tightened, as if lifted.” In my personal experience creams do not prevent wrinkles. What’s more, I’ve been told by an eminent dermatologist that one would do just as well smearing margarine over one’s face.
But I still go ahead and buy, at exorbitant prices, creams and unguents for day and night. Why? I suppose that the wish to eliminate the signs of age is so strong that, like romantic love, it overcomes all better judgment.
and other forms of dancing, are to be made compulsory in all secondary schools in China, I felt a twinge of envy – and regret.
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