Yoga. We're all lying down in deep meditation, our inner being sending our love out to the world. Absolute silence. We are all "ONE"… DRRRRIIINNG All that collective compassion condenses onto me. With every ring, poisoned arrows of love rip through my voodoo-doll insides! … The torture takes a break. General relief. … DRRRRIIINNG Then it starts looping again. My inner being leaps up to answer, survival instinct! It's a test of patience. Whoever gets annoyed loses. Hello, Mum! Hello, darling, how did your yoga class go? Brilliant! Perfect timing, you've got a real gift! You're calling me in the middle of meditation. My dignity has just run out of the room! You should switch your phone off, you're disturbing everyone. Aren't you ashamed? Too late. The community of peaceful yogis has kindly shown me to the door. So I went for salsa… it's friendly, we'll have a great time… Except things have changed… here, you can tell straight away that dancing is serious business. People dance in silence, faces locked in concentration. Get into pairs. Instantly, the couples join their other halves. I head towards the only man without a partner. Hello, lovely to meet you. My name is Coraline. Clearly embarrassed, he doesn't answer, doesn't look at me either, come to think of it… I can tell making friends is going to be child's play! The teacher counts the steps. He counts along with his lips… but strangely, not with his feet? Stiff legs, locked hips, limp lead… he holds me with his fingertips… clammy ones… He looks ready to bolt. It looks complicated! I sympathise. He and coordination are not on speaking terms. Change partners. Ten couples stay rooted to the spot, thunderstruck. Clearly, they've all been hit by the same thunderbolt. They stay as welded together as the statues of Pompeii. Eyes locked, nothing else exists around them… Music! Yes! All is not lost! I sway in time… but the others stand stock-still. I very much fear the music is optional. It's played in slow motion, on and off, as background noise. So that's why we white people have no rhythm! We learn to dance without it, obviously! DRRRRIIINNG And here we go again! There you are, that'll teach me to make fun, now it's my turn! At the other end of the ballroom, my phone is screaming. The teacher loses her count. Everyone freezes. Deathly silence. … If I move, everyone will know it's me. Please, God! Make it stop. … Thank you! General relief. The teacher picks up her explanations. DRRRRIIINNG No choice, I'm going. My new friends shoot me filthy looks. All the way across the ballroom, I apologise to every couple I pass: Oops, that's the alarm reminding me to switch off the ringer, my new personalised alarm clock is on the blink. DRRRRIIINNG this room goes on for ever It's my little contribution to tonight's sound show. DRRRRIIINNG it was built for waltzing, the space never ends My fan club does everything to make me popular, my parents are the presidents. DRRRRIIINNG made it to the far end of the football pitch no way to stop my mobile. My parents have cracked the code. It always rings when it's them. They've programmed a nuclear alert, with reinforced protection. It takes three passwords to unlock it. Urgent, Dad, Mum DRRRRIIINNG My finger swipes, but the screen stays locked! One day, someone will have to explain to me what's wrong with this screen. … … Phew! The ringing finally stops! My mobile unlocks, like magic! Seven missed calls! Oh crikey, they're hunting me down! They won't let go until I've answered! I fire off a text right away: I'm in dance class. Switch! Silent mode! At the end of the class, the teacher suggests I leave my new salsero friends to their counting… and move up to level two salsa. A week later… right in the middle of a tricky move: Doble sombrero de la plancha del brazzero enchoufla dilekeno dilekesi… qué no, qué no, qué si, qué si! Olé! Miracle! Not a single DRRRRIIINNG I just left my mobile at home. When I get back, my sister, clearly livid, is stationed outside my door, ready to identify my body. My panicking parents have mistaken her for the fire brigade! I open the door: seven missed calls! My red-hot mobile is still smoking!
