S.C.D.

The TV programme Strictly Come Dancing doesn't remotely resemble ballroom dancing as I knew it. The waltz is usually fairly graceful but the rest could be labelled Strictly Acrobatic!
I can hear you all saying "Here she goes again" but I must tell you what is was like when I was a teenager. Only we weren't called that. The name hadn't been invented.
We danced to the strict tempo of Victor Sylvester and Joe Loss. Slow, slow, quick,quick, slow. We all said this under our breath as we circled the floor. As we got more adventurous we would tango or rumba to records of Edmundo Ros. The Hammersmith Palais and the Locarno Streatham and no doubt other dance halls stayed open all through the war and were full of people. Servicemen and women of all nations were there. It was good to relax there with the bright lights and the music , one could forget the war. You went with your girl friend and hoped that good-looking sailor would ask you to dance. Girls who were wallflowers would try to look as if they had only come to listen to the music.
Much hilarity was caused by the group dances like the Palais Glide and the Conga and the Paul Jones. Ah, the Paul Jones! The men in one circle, the girls in another. This was a bit of a lottery. When the music stopped your partner might be that chap who looks like Clark Gable. Oh rapture! But after a few steps the music would change again he would be off and the next time the music stopped your partner would be a little chap with two left feet.
The evening would end with lights dimmed and the band playing "Who's taking you home tonight, after the dance is through?" And out you went into the blackout.