Another challenge I have set myself this year is to learn how to salsa the night away in true Cuban style. Wednesday evenings no longer mean another night of chores but smouldering Latin music with lots of shimmying and laughter.

Last night was lesson four in my village hall with teacher Dave, a fork lift truck driver by day and salsa divo by night. His heaving beer belly and tattoos hide the passion smouldering inside his overweight body. Once the music plays, his nimble feet come to life; they almost seem separate to the rest of his body. He happily swirls each female partner round, first clockwise, then anti clockwise, then under his arm and around his back after which their arms caress his face and then his shoulder before linking up to his outstretched arm. A few nifty foot movements are added too and the whole process takes immense concentration.

What I lack in fluent speech I make up for with my salsa, or so I like to think. This is where I take the lead over my husband, who is never bashful when it comes to standing up in front and speaking in front of a crowded room. He has told me endless times how he always makes the best presentations at work when describing the new spring collection that his department store will be stocking. He cannot understand how I stutter and stammer and freeze in that kind of situation. He thinks if he can do it, anyone can.

But it seems that hubby, who joined the last couple of classes, cannot salsa, he suffers from having flat web feet and last night he left the class early after struggling with the spinning and twirling and foot tapping too. While I intend to carry on trying to improve my public speaking skills area, my husband has admitted defeat. However, I’m hoping to persuade him otherwise after a night at the Salsa Club in Cambridge this Friday. Like public speaking, it just takes practise ….