The main reason I went again was the desire to dance with good partners. I needed to remind myself that there were steps beyond rock-step triple-step, and that I could swirl with a partner while following the music, unbound by the dictates of learned moves. Recalling the successful plan I used last year, again I booked a one-way ticket to Copenhagen, and again I enjoyed a few days dancing to various events at the Copenhagen Jazz Festival, this time hosted by Ann-Britt she hosted me, not the festival.
The weather was warm, the city pleasant, and the community of Lindy hoppers there active and friendly. The dance surfaces were even worse than previous years, though, and my shoes suffered a bit. Many of us tried putting gaffer tape on our shoes, and in my case this had the effect of getting lots of sharp bits of gravel stuck to them, some of which then embedded themselves deeply in the soles.
I did a bit of being a tourist, saw the Rosenborg Slot small but highly detailed palace in the park , and the Thorvaldsens Museum of sculpture, where photography was not forbidden nor charged for.
After an hour or so, the feeling of instability faded away, and I and my companions Tintin and Pricken, one of whom was a dog, made many stops for ice-cream and sandwiches, while the torrid sun blazed away. Next, a train to Stockholm. The Swedes seem to have little faith in their rail system, and some advised me to take a bus. One tip was to join an SJ membership scheme on-line and get half-price tickets. I tried this, but it required quoting a Swedish citizenship number, and so I thought I had failed.
Upon my return home, though, I found that the SJ railway company was very keen to have me as a member anyway β so keen, in fact, that it sent me not one, not two, not three, not seven, not fourteen, but nine membership cards in separate envelopes. All hail automated systems.
