It was one of those few moments in life when the reality was better than the fantasy. Yesterday the girls started their ballet classes. I was so nervous about arriving late we were there an hour and a half before the beginning. We wandered around for a while and then went to the school.
It is called the Skouratoff Studio and is in a small back-street in a part of Montpellier you have never heard of and wouldn’t really want to visit. It has two studios, one that looks out on the street. It was here I witnessed the obsession begin. Olivia and Bea stood totally transfixed watching a class of teenagers dance. It was a magical moment. I almost wept with joy.
Then it was their turn. They looked divine in their little pink tutus, hair up in a bun and ballet shoes. I wasn’t allowed to stay and watch but they came out beaming, telling me they wanted to join the more advanced class. Since coming home they have talked about nothing else and done practically nothing else. As I write they are leaping around upstairs. Bea incidentally is a very good jumper according to the teacher. I have to say the transformation in Olivia after just one lesson is astounding. She now looks like a ballerina.
As for me, well I did ask about the adult courses and there are lots of them, for all levels. I am sorely tempted but Rupert warns me that Zelda Fitzgerald tried to become a ballet dancer just before she went mad.
Maybe I’d better stick to watching the girls. In my case the fantasy is probably better than the reality.
Copyright: Helena Frith Powell 2008