Oh to be young again, back in 1984 I was 14 years old and absolutely obsessed with Break Dancing and Hip Hop, I even had a 'Crew', the name was given to a gang of lads who would like to hang around with each other, express themselves through the subtle art of dance, whilst playing incredibly loud 'dance' music through an incredibly big kitchen radio/cassette player, affectionately known as a 'Ghetto Blaster'.
Our crew consisted of just me and my cousin (shout out to CJ), a small crew granted, but a crew no less, hell, we even had our own portable 8' x 8' roll of plastic kitchen Lino flooring that we would carry around with us, and of course, we had matching Nike Tracksuits and Puma trainers with crazy thick coloured laces.
We only ventured out once, to get 'Down on the Street'.
It was outside the local Woolworths on a Sunny Summer Saturday. I'm surprised we didn't get our heads kicked in though, the 'Music' was loud as fuck, although 'Noise' was the term used by the old ladies as they passed. We were also taking up precious pavement space judging by the looks of disgust from the shoppers passing by, and of course, to top it all off, we were not that good at what the hell we were supposed to be doing. Dancing??? To them, it probably looked like two teenagers having simultaneous epileptic fits.
Great fun looking back, even if never got round to mastering 'The Windmill' or 'Spinning on my Head'. Gutted.
With my physical stature, I was more suited to 'Body Poppin', where you can mostly stay on two feet and not spend half your time rolling around on the floor. You still looked like a complete tit to the adults of course, but I thought I was cool as fuck.
Whilst writing this post I thought, let's see if I still got it.
Ok perhaps not, maybe I never had it in the first place looking at that, but back then I thought I was the dog's bollocks. I'm missing My Nike tracksuit that would have made all the difference If I still had it, I'm sure. Yeah right.
It wasn't all about the dancing though, you had to look the part, and in retrospect, it's no wonder the older generation took a wide birth at the site of us, what would you do if you had to pass these fella's hanging around the local high street? Also not the sharpest tools in the box, they are standing on a fucking railway track the silly buggers.
Colourful clothing was a big thing in the '80s for some, leg warmers were bright and fluffy, tracksuits were a major hit for both sexes, even if you had no intention of visiting a gym it was still acceptable to wear these things 24/7, basically, people were like walking rainbows unless you were into 'Madness', in which case you wore Burgundy Stay-press trousers with matching Fred Perry T-shirt and the classic green bomber jacket or a Crombie. The '80s really was a mish-mash of fashion, have a look at these fuckers, and try not to throw up in your throat.
Anyway, this post ain't about friggin fashion it's about movement believe it or not, which I will get to in a bit. Just got to sneak in one more '80s thingy, me and my crew used to do this particular move, pictured below, and apart from whacking our bollocks together and collapsing in agony every other try, some of the bigger boys said it was pretty gay, so we fucking stopped doing it.
My passion for 'Break-Dancing' and 'Body-Poppin' started to diminish after only a couple of years of giving it the effing big one. But the memories live on, and I often think of those days when this physical phase in my life was fun, I actually enjoyed pissing about Dancing, Poppin, Locking, and stuff, and looking back, It was keeping me fit and active as well.
Not so much dancing these days though eh, I think the last time I hit the dance floor was at someone's 40th Birthday Bash a few years ago. I was pissed as a fart of course and got forcefully dragged there by my equally pissed wife and all her friends. It went quite well though if I recall, I didn't fall flat on my face or bump into any old biddies, I did end up putting my back out doing that stupid fucking 'Rock the Boat' song though, you know, the one where you all sit lined up on the floor and jam your genitals together, rocking back and forth and then side to side slapping the dancefloor with the palm of your hand.
NOTE: The Boy-Girl-Boy-Girl rule must definitely apply to this situation, if you don't time getting in that line correctly, your fucked. You really don't want to spend the next 4 minutes with your meat & two veg rubbing up against fat uncle Bob now do you?
Now, at 50 yrs old my range of movement is much less than in my teens of course, but with my newfound search for a healthier lifestyle I am finding ways to get back some mobility to those aching underused limbs, and of course, I'm trying to do it with the least amount of pain and suffering.
So how am I achieving