December 30, 2005

Horse 467 - Land of 1000 Dances

There are lots of dances that start to be done up and down this wide brown land in the summer. In the winter when there aren't as many people about, then the only real danced that's done is the "Avoid smelly people on the train dance".

The Beach:
Provided you've escaped the hoardes of "middle eastern appearance" and the "right wing neo-nazis" who seem to be prepared to fight each other on the beaches, you might be able to do the traditional dances associated with summer.

Car Park Dance: This dance is because the carparks will be black tar and in the sun all morning. Rinny-run-run-run Rinny-run-run-run across the carpark until you find somewhere to stop the soles of your feet from burning.

Hot Sand Dance: The hot sand although not black is also going to be extremely hot after being in the sun all day. Here an effort is made because as well as touching hot sand, you're also sinking into the stuff. You can exactly run effectively in sand either.

Million Point Dance: When everyone is well and truly burnt to a crisp there is another interesting phenomenon. People no longer want to be out in the sun so they'll retreat back up the beach to where it's dry and hopefully under an umbrella. The problem is that dry sand is far more mobile and in the wind, the grains against burnt skin turn into a million pin pricks a second. This dance is more of a squirm.

Hot Butt Car Dance: When it's time to go home you can repeat the Hot Sand Dance and the Car Park Dance and then get back into a hot car. By this stage the vynyl seats will be like a hotplate just perfect for searing already tender skin and so comes the last dance. This dance is done under such conditions and hopefully by the time you get home the air-con has cooled the house down... you hope.

I don't do these dances, I'm at ease back in the pavillion with a chocolate milkshake and a copy of the newspaper doing the crossword. I have big boots and jeans which prevents any of these dances from being done. I'm scientifically bred to live in a peat bog and at 15 degrees below. The Australian summer is ludicrous.

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