Dad dancing… Questionable whether it can technically be classed as dancing…but check.
I had the pleasure of attending my lovely nieces wedding last weekend. Killashee house, Ireland’s answer to Downton Abbey the setting..
What a fabulous occasion.. The entire day a delight. I think we’ve reached a level of sophistication that weddings are tasteful elegant gatherings. Not a meringue in sight. Not a whiff of baby’s breath, not a sequin to be seen. No having to endure Auntie Eileen’s eight verses of ‘Frankie and Johnny’.
However, there are some wedding stalwart traditions that remain. As sure as the Pope is Sth American, as soon as the first notes of ‘Highway to Hell’ reverberate across the room, dads granddads and uncles alike are compelled to pogo jump in unison. Gripped by a sudden urge to invade the dance floor, ties are ripped off and turned into headbands. Impervious to the pleas of female relatives who eventually submit to the inevitability of the cringefest that is Dad Dancing. A medley of classic moves ensues as they obey the eleventh commandment ‘Thou shalt play air guitar in embarrassing fashion’.
The band lap it up, encouraged by the enthusiastic reception. On to a winner they play an entire set of heavy metal. The dads work themselves into a frenzy. Not only are the guitars imaginary but the hair that they are vigorously shaking is too. Such is their commitment to head banging, the entire room joins in the fun.
Red faced, exhausted but laughing their heads off, the set ends and sanity is restored.
Dad dancing..I hope this is one wedding tradition that never disappears.