Scotish Ceilidh

Scottish Ceilidh

Amy: James, have you ever been to a Scottish Ceilidh?
James: Ceilidh? What the? How do you spell that?
Amy: I don't know...but it's dancing.
James:Oh...no then.
Amy: Right, we're going for Burns Night.

A céilidh is a traditional Gaelic social dance event originating in Ireland and Scotland, but now common throughout the Celtic diaspora. Before discos and nightclubs, there were céilidhs in most town and village halls on Friday or Saturday nights; they are still common today.

With a vague idea that it was like country dancing Amy & I joined her friends in Hammersmith for a Burns Night Ceilidh special. We'd decided that there wasn't a strong need for traditional dress, so I avoided the kilt and sporran. More out of a fear of making some sort of fashion faux-pas and offending an entire clan of London based Scots by wearing the wrong type of tartan. I didn't fancy mocking the situation by going half heartedly dressed in traditional Scottish attire. My friend Grover however, thought it amusing/traditional to wear a tartan flat cap with fake ginger hair spouting from the back. We're not sure if the "Jimmy" cap was welcomed or not as we were all moving far too fast around the place to have a conversation about it.

The Ceilidh is a night of Scottish dancing. These dances follow a strict routine which thankfully is easy to pick up. To help the novices along the moves were called by the live bands leader who would shout the moves and count you in time. He also would make the occasional comment on the state of Hammersmith's attempts to "Strip the willow" (a dance move, more later).

This particular Saturday night Ceilidh was being held in the Hammersmith & Fulham Council Town Hall in the heart of Hammersmith. From the outside it was a classic 1960's panic build made entirely of grey concrete. The interior was like any secondary school that had not received funding for building repairs since the 1960's also, so most then. The Grand Hall was massive. Imagine your school hall, wood floors, random doors where the canteen was hidden, stupidly high ceiling where lights would remain off because the bulbs had blown long ago and it would require a cherry-picker to replace them and strange curtains.
At one end of the room was a raised stage with a ceiling to floor curtain, drawn to hide the depths of the performance area. It wasn't needed as the band had plenty of room on the stage in front of it. What worried me was directly opposite was another grand curtain that hung from ceiling to floor but appeared to serve no purpose. There was nothing behind it except a wall. It seemed an immense waste of public money to hang a curtain in front of a wall. The drunker I got the more suspicious of the curtain I became.

We followed the traditionally dressed down the Kings Road towards the dance. Sure enough there was plenty of kilt action by both ladies and gents although the ladies wore their kilts dangerously shorter than the men. Knowing what could be revealed by the men later on it was very sensible of them to wear them long.

The place was rammed when we got in. There must have been around 500 people, all ready to dance badly. Our tickets granted us access to a meal before the dance which was Haggis Neats & Tatties. I love Haggis and always try to grab some when I'm up at the Edinburgh Festival. Tonight's dish was classically prepared in a vat the size of a house and dished out with the grace of a dying swan but with a smile. I didn't mind. It tasted great and supplied my body with plenty of salt that I was sure to sweat-out later, while dancing. There was just one worrying moment when I came to be served. The catering staff asked if I wanted meat or veg. Knowing that a Haggis is far from being vegetarian this confused me. I was staring at a vat of haggis unclear as to my option. Strangely they had produced a vegetarian haggis option as well. Why? Surely a vegetarian wouldn't have the energy, with four hours of drinking and dancing ahead of us, to be at a Ceilidh. They may as well have stayed at home. Obviously I chose the meat option. I'm quite happy to consume goats testicles etc.

No sooner had we finished our scran than the music started and the crowd ran towards the dance floor. I'd barely started my reasonably priced bottle of London Pride before I was dragged to join the melee. I was seamlessly thrown into a line. Across from me were complete strangers, who looked just as clueless as I was as to what was about to occur.

Scottish dancing is like any traditionally Celtic based dancing. Lines of people face off and to the rhythm, throw each other around in time (if good) to the music. Various names are offered to help in understanding the dances all of which offer no clues as to the dance moves. Strip the Willow and Gay-Gordons were two names I remembered. The Welsh dancing I did as a child put me in good stead for the evening.

To survive you needed to realise and accept that you would not be dancing with the people you came with. You may start dancing with your best friend but the dances were designed so that you danced with everyone. There were 500 people. So that was a lot of changing. Out of politeness I spent most of my evening introducing myself. I must have met over 100 women. However it was all so swift that we'd have a brief chat then she'd be onto the next partner. I'd noticed that some ceilidh's are advertised as singles nights. Speed-dating while dancing. If you like the idea of meeting your future partner, when you look exhausted, have a hint of sheeps testicles on your breath and have no co-ordination all while doing Gay Gordon, I'm sure it's the place to be. You certainly meet a lot of women, albeit very briefly.

At half-time the organisers piped in the sacrificial Haggis to much cheering and shouting. I myself can not stand the sound of bag-pipes. Mainly through exhaustion I decided not to vent my distaste for the squealing. Then a poem was delivered and toasts were made. Even though I am half Scottish and have grown-up with a mother speaking the harshest of Scottish accents, Glaswegian, I could not tell you what was said. It was all well received though.

Now the Scots are known for their drinking but where do they find the time? There was only enough time between dances to work out where you were, in relation to the big scary curtain so as to scamper back to your table and take a swig of beer. The caller clearly didn't have an eye on making a profit at the bar. I only had time for two drinks all night and I'm not sure I finished those! It was only at the end of each dance did you realise how sweaty you were. Baring in mind we'd all dressed for winter some of the night was spent hastily undressing. I recall tights, shirts and bras all being discarded. I guess those with the kilts had no such drama.

It simply was a fantastic night of dancing. You don't have to be an expert or even an amateur. You just need not to care if you get it wrong or make a fool of yourself. You're unlikely to see any of your random dance partners again. The main thing is that although you can't wear pants under your kilt, you must always dance with a smile. It's definitely an ice-breaker but not something you'd take a first, second or tenth date on as you'll hardly get any dancing time with each other.

I hope to go again....and I will wear a kilt.

HDM