Forgotten Hobby.

Thinking back to September 2008 and the start of Chester Uni. Never to this day did I ever imagine I would ever stop dancing.
Its one of those things your parents start you doing when your about 3 and over the years you learn to love it and before you know it, your older, wiser and with a pretty good talent under your belt. Or amazing balance.
Not sure whether its one of those things that grows out of you or just sort of disappears into no where. But it wasn’t until recently that it suddenly kicked in that I havn’t danced in a pair of ballet shoes for almost two years now.
Guess it’s kind of corny, but every time there is a pair on my feet something takes over. Believe me; if I could wear them it the final exams next year, I would probably pirouette out the room with a First. Suppose it’s similar to the blanket that a young toddler trails around after itself, its little bit of security made of cotton.
Everyone has something they love doing, something that just makes everything else seem ok, something that even when your fuming and angered out of your mind, you know will instantly calm you down and maker everything bearable. For me it’s putting on a pair of ballet shoes, for my mum its being in the garden, for my dad its sitting in his car and for my brother its having a full blown teenage huff, complete with door slamming and putting the TV on full volume. Everyone has something, whether they admit it or not.
It’s just a bit daunting how quickly we can forget these things. Have officially lost track of the amount of times I keep saying I’ll start a collection of famous (and meaningful) sayings, or the amount of times ive gone into Jessops and forgotten to get some photos of my closest friends printed.
It’s worrying how much we forget the simple things that make us happy and the things that make us who we are. The years of Tutu’s, tiara’s and ballet ribbons, seem to have been replaced with book shelves of feminist novels, Tesco receipts and pockets full of loose change.