Maria-Helena, a retired pharmacist, on her first year in Konstantinos’ Wednesday class.
I had been to exactly one dance class in my life, at school, in 1974. My daughter booked the trial for me as a birthday present and I was quietly furious about it for a week.
What nobody tells you is that the hardest part is not the steps. It is the first four minutes, standing in a circle with strangers, waiting to be rotated to someone new. After that you are too busy counting to be self-conscious.
A year on I go to the Wednesday class and to La Bachatera most months. I am not good. I am, however, the only person in my building who dances on a Wednesday, and I intend to keep it that way.
