Next week, like James Stewart in 'Rear Window', I shall be at home, my left leg in full bandages, spying on my neighbours from the comfort of a sofa, hoping that one of them commits a murder. I shall be resting after getting my veins stripped out in a small hospital in the town of Clane, thirty miles away from Dublin. I had intended to watch the whole box set of Danish murder mystery 'The Killing' as I recover but couldn't wait. Instead I finished all twenty hours of it last night and am left feeling obsessed with murder, fishing jumpers and Copenhagen. For those who have not seen 'The Killing', simply put, it is the best thriller ever made in the history of the universe.
"Shall I bring round the Downton Abbey box set?" my old pal Patsy phoned offering help. The problem is that I nod off the moment I see a parasol: period dramas are not my thing. After The Killing, I know that the only thing that will aid my recovery will be to solve a gory crime from my sofa. I saw my neighbour bring in the wheelie bin last night and am convinced that she was disposing of a body. I shared my evidence with Patsy. "I have not seen her husband for at least two days. I'm going down and interviewing her......". She snapped me out of my paranoia, "You just need something to look forward to after the operation, something to take your mind off it all". She was right. The chances are that none of the neighbour will commit a murder and, in reality, there's nothing but sheep to look at from my rear window. Patsy still tried to cheer me up. "I KNOW! Let's do an evening class after your operation!"
The town of Clane, as it happens, is also the home of adult education in the county and this week, the much anticipated 'Clane Evening Class' brochure came out. Patsy was first in line for a copy and read out possible classes down the phone. "Flower arranging? French for Beginners? Knitting? Ooooh, what about Origami?" I was hoping for something a little more exciting than paper folding to aid my recovery, something about murderers. "No, wait. I have it here! Sweet mother of Divine, I HAVE FOUND THE PERFECT COURSE FOR US!" She was screaming in my ear like she had won the Lotto.
She sounded like she had found something amazing. But what? Perhaps she'd found something intellectually stimulating or ground breaking. Maybe a new skill, something that could make a difference in our home, community, country, or even the world after we'd completed the course. "Here we go, course number 6011, are you ready?" I was so excited that I could hardly breathe. "What about a Learn Michael Jackson's Thriller Dance Class". I almost dropped my tea. "It's a ten week course. Each class an hour long. You learn the whole original dance and it says here, once you have learnt it, you'll have it for the rest of you life!'. Imagine that?"
A Thriller Dance class? Someone must be a serious Michael Jackson fan at the evening class booking office. I'd rather learn the Beyonce 'Single Ladies' dance but beggers can't be choosers. Following the surgery I have to rest for 5 days. After that, the Thriller dance routine could be just what I need to get the circulation going again in the left leg. If I keep the bandages on, I'd even have half a costume and I'll be covered in bruises so no need for stage make up. "You don't even need a costume," Patsy corrected me, "it says here, 'Dress up provided'. Wow, they've thought of everything!" Probably a good idea on the teachers' part- if Patsy and I were left to our own devices God knows what we'd end up looking like.
I thought about it. I could only ever do a dance class if there were at least another 50 people doing it. I'd need a crowd to hide behind. It would be a nightmare if it ended up being just me and Patsy in Lycra leotards, sweatbands and leg-warmers, a floor to ceiling dance mirror and Kildare's equivalent to Louis Spence. I have no sense of rhythm and a very short attention span and Pasty needs a cigarette every ten minutes or she gets violent.
"They need enough people to join the class otherwise it will be cancelled" Patsy continued. That means that we'll have to go on a mission and recruit as many friends as we can to come along too and sign up for the Learn Michael Jackson's Thriller Dance Class. I'll start in the morning at the school gate. But are there really that many people in Kildare who want to dress up like zombies? It isn't that hard for me as the zombie fashion and trance like stare isn't far off my everyday look. But could I ever be taught to dance like the King Of Pop, Michael Jackson? I'm 42 and have I've no sense of direction whatsoever.
Patsy is right, I will sign up with her. It will be something to look forward to as I lay on the sofa dozing in front of the Downton Abbey box set. I just hope that surgeon is gentle with my new found dancing legs as he rips out the veins on Tuesday. Little will he know that in a few months time Patsy and I will be available to hire as Ireland's only Michael Jackson Thriller tribute act.
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