The original balletomane

This blog has been up my sleeve for a few weeks now. My ballet friend, my beautiful grandma, the original balletomane (indeed she passed on a copy of Arthur Haskell's book which coined the very expression) passed away after a relatively short battle with pancreatic cancer. She passed her love of ballet onto me and in the 90s while I was growing up in Manchester, we went to see everything which visited. I remember seeing many of the classics from the English National Ballet in addition to a beautiful set of more contemporary dances choreographed by ice skater Christopher Dean.  I also remember when I could finally treat her to a performance that it was incredibly modern and abstract and perhaps not quite what grandma had in mind when she thought of ballet. But that is growth and development and we don't always have to like what we see!

My blog is essentially a continuation of the journey which I began with my grandma in Manchester. Having moved to London, having a very busy life as a young adult and not much money, the opportunities were few. I think I could count on one hand the number of trips to the ballet in my twenties which included the wonderful Manon at the Royal Opera House. Next, becoming a mum meant that my time was no longer my own and the juggle meant simply battling to cope with family life and holding down a job. For my 30th birthday, my husband surprised me with perfect seats to see the Royal Ballet -  Ashton's Cinderella -  made all the more wonderful with the additional surprise that my mum and my very special grandma would be joining me.

Another few years passed by and grandma started to suffer from Parkinson's. She was a proud lady and although physically, the Parkinson's would be noticeable to few, she tended to restrict herself to the house on her bad days. She didn't want to share her illness with even the closest of her friends and only the family knew. The theatre trips which she loved so much became fewer because it just wasn't possible to guarantee how she would be feeling, but my mum and I did manage to treat her to the BRB's visit to Manchester early last year.  I'd call to tell her about all of the wonderful dance opportunities I had on my doorstep - being able to go to the Royal Opera House at relatively short notice to see whatever they were showing, seeing the Bolshoi's summer programme, Carlos Acosta's farewell performance, getting to go to more intimate events run by Ivy House Music & Dance. All the while, I would pop the occasional DVD in the post for her to enjoy.

When Matthew Bourne's Red Shoes was announced in 2016, I was on the phone immediately. This had been grandma's favourite movie at about the age of 17, she and her best friend went to the cinema one weekend, watched the show through then ducked down to hide in their seats to catch the next performance...and the next. Oh I had great plans to take her, but then came the cancer diagnosis which frankly came too late - the unfortunate truth of this particular cancer.

And this is all the pretext for my blog, to draw out the memories as I continue my ballet journey and hopefully inspire my children and my niece with the love that my dear grandma had.