Tuesday evening, last week, en route to zumba, and Alan and I were playing the "how many are going to come" game. Yes we are easily entertained! The classes have been increasing with new ladies, since we returned in January, and of course the more people, the better the atmosphere, it's been great! I had decided to video one of the dances, which I do ocassionaly and put it on youtube. Something however has been going on in my class for the last few weeks. They have been getting into huddles, huddles can be worrying, although the speed they talk, I can't usually understand them anyway, so they needn't of huddled! We had thought maybe it was talk of the crisis, or something vaguely political, as one lady works for the town hall, or even the Montoro Mafia! My Montoro Mafia ladies have recently shown their true support towards me, as there is a new zumba teacher in town... shock horror! In fact she came to my classes for the first couple of weeks I took the classes, then I didn't hear from her again, until about 6 months ago when she advertsied her new zumba classes at exactly the same time and day as mine. To be honest healthy competition purely made me raise my game, and I heard nothing more of her. I did however congratulate her in on her facebook page, but say what a shame she had decided to run her classes the same times as mine, as I was sure we could have dancers that would like to attend each others zumba nights! January however she seems to have come out of the closet again and re advertise, once again the same time and day as mine. My Montoro ladies obviously heard the rumour of this, and she had approached one lady, and tried to encourage her to attend her classes instead of mine, and my loyal following were really quite angry, they wanted to know if she was a qualified instructor, and were certainly showing me that they were remaining with me, and they did not like the way she was going about this one bit!
So we were warmed up and ready for action. Alan was poised like a BBC camera man, ok not really, he was sitting on a chair pointing the camera in the appropriate direction. The intro to the dance started, and I suddenly heard a huge cheer go up, I turned round to see my ladies peeling off their tee shirts to proudly reveal their newly printed tee shirts on underneath, saying "Zumba Lorna" I was chuffed, I was speechless, it was a good week for the hormones so I didn't cry... phew! Then they huddled round me and all took turns to high five and hug me, and of course presented me with a top too. Bless their hearts, what an amazing new bunch of friends I have. Alan videoed the dance, which I have shared below although I was so overwhelmed I went wrong in that dance, and I think every other dance that night too. How embarrasing, but I don't think they minded that much!
We actually had 17 dancers that night, some must have hidden!
Alan had gone shopping whilst I did the rest of the class as usual, and we set of home, in Frank our old Mitsubishi. Poor ole Frank had been rattling like crazy and he wasn't a particularly comfy ride, but he was getting us from a to b, just! Sadly Frank didn't manage to get us home that night. Just as we indicated to turn off the motoway it sounded like the floor of the car had fallen out, and I was expecting to have to start running, like in the Flintstones cartoons. We pondered over what to do. The car wouldn't move after we eventually came to a stop, it wouldn't accelerate at all, so there was no way we were getting home. We could get it towed to a garge, but then not get home, or get home and then hope our good samaritan Ken could come out and fix it. Eventually that was the choice we made. The Montoro garages did not like our right hand drive!
We have break down cover with our insurance and they were exteremely helpful. As were the 5 drivers who all stopped to check we were ok as they passed us. One man Alan recognised, we buy our hay from him! We only waited about 40 mintes when the tow truck came along. Sadly he was a miserable bugger. The Spanish men can look a little "down in the mouth" although we always make an effort and find they are very much the opposite. Not this guy. He wasn't happy taking us home, so Alan was having a conversation with the insurance company over the phone, telling them we had no way of getting home. This was then translated to the miserable bugger. He was very unhappy going on the country road which is tarmac, and he tutted and sighed the whole blooming journey. When we turned onto the track, oh my God, you would have thought he was in a low sports car. Now our track is fantastic at the moment, it is not at all muddy and it is very smooth. Four years ago a lorry carrying our 8 x 4 swimming pool on it, got to our house, but once again he stopped a phoned a friend, moaning about this journey.
I don't think the journey to our house has ever taken so long, he was driving so rediculously slowly, to prove a point. I would love to complain about him, but I have a horrible feeling if ever we were to break down again, he would be the one to be sent out! Now we are at home, playing the waiting game!
