Against my better instincts, a kitchen Zoom disco was just what I needed

Ilove having fun as much as the next person, but here is my confession: the moment I encounter so much as a whiff of that fun being forced – Hallowe’en, say, or anything that involves dressing up – something comes over me and I become the Grinch who stole that forced fun and stuffed it down the waste disposal unit.

So you can probably imagine my response when, back in March, we were invited to join a Lockdown Zoom Disco.

It was organised by the parents of a child in my son’s class, who are lovely and well-adjusted (by which I mean they love Hallowe’en, and always get into the spirit of an occasion). If we can’t meet up, let’s have a disco, they said. On Zoom. In the kitchen.

I may privately have uttered the words, “Is this a joke?”

A disco, at the best of times, is not my scene. A family disco on Zoom sounded like one definition of hell. And yet.

And yet, I am married to one of life’s enthusiasts; someone who sees music as the salve to all of life’s ills, and who thinks that if someone has gone to the trouble of organising a disco then we should go. Anyway, I could offer no answer to his question of what else I would be doing that Saturday night.

So, like a truculent child, I found myself standing in front of a computer screen, waiting for the virtual disco to begin.

Among my reservations – there were many – was the question of how a bunch of 20 or so people morphs from awkward chat to dancing. Also, would people be able to tell from my demeanour how stiffly opposed I am to this sort of thing? But there was no chat. And no one cared about my demeanour, or anyone else’s. Children take the ball that is the spirit of silliness, and run with it. When the music started, each of the nine families, in boxes on screen, became multiple silhouettes; people wigging out in abandoned fashion.

Every so often, someone waved a lightsabre or a glow stick in front of the screen. I remember a moment of envy that everyone was losing themselves in the moment and in the music. No one was thinking about the lockdown. No one cared what anyone else was doing.

And then, I guess lockdown fever took hold. Forty minutes later, I had travelled from reluctance to what I can only describe as letting it all hang out. I danced on the kitchen table. I sang along, loudly.

It was funny, and it was extremely silly, which is absolutely the opposite of how any of us are feeling most of the time, round about now.

And that was when I realised, that I really, really needed that. One thing I have learned in lockdown is that it’s hard to have meaningful verbal interaction on Zoom. But we all need human contact. And it turns out that dancing together with relatively new friends is a surprisingly bonding thing to do. And, not for the first time since this all began, I realised that saying yes to things I have always, habitually, said no to brings unexpected benefits.

Also, sometimes a kitchen disco is just what we need to feel a bit better. Who knew?

I travelled from reluctance to what I can only describe as letting it all hang out

Victoria Young