Flamenco Festival

Yesterday evening, my boyfriend bought tickets to Carmen at Sadler's Wells during the flamenco festival. We were within ten rows of the stage and could see close up all of the foot stomping and sweat. Luckily, we weren't that close to actually be hit with any sweat. Always a hazard of flamenco.

Flamenco is a great passion of mine. I used to dance it for many years, but stopped when I moved to London because I couldn't exactly practice in flat shares and sheer laziness. My cassinets and nail tipped shoes are waiting in my cupboard and last night they started to call to me. The foot stomping was so intense, my boyfriend had to practically hold me in my seat lest I jump to my feet and make a spectacle of myself. My favourite part is when the dancers pound their feet so fast that their feet become a blur. My feet never went that fast, but I could always feel the excitement welling within me. My feet wanted to go faster and faster and faster - as fast as my soul was dancing. The Spanish bug has bitten me again. Watch out neighbours. This time my shoes might just win and find themselves tip tapping out of the closet.

photos courtesy of Sadler's Wells