The True Origin of Irish Dance!

Oh my! How time flies when you’re trying to be Super-Woman! When you look in the dictionary under “busy”, it says “see under Donna”. But now my home business is thriving and I just have to learn to stretch time! I watched television today for the first time in three months, and tonight I hope to be in bed before 4 a.m. My furry children, Ahrran and Guinny seemed surprised to see me out and about in the house. I'm normally glued to my 'office' chair!

Oh, how I would love to be paid to spend my days reclining elegantly upon a leather sofa, a soft cushion for my head and someone to wait on me hand and paw and whisper sweet-nothings to me in dulcet tones of adoration. But then, I doubt Guinny would share the sofa with me, and maybe there isn’t room in our small house for two spoiled ‘women’!

Tonight I hired the video ‘Lord of the Dance’ for my daughter, who plans to learn Irish Dancing when she turns six in a couple of years, and not long ago, we watched an interesting Irish documentary about the history of Irish Dancing. A couple of theories were presented as to why Irish dancers keep their upper torsos and arms perfectly still, while their lower halves leap and tap about in a display of frenzied delight. Probably the most sensible explanation was that it became purely a matter of preferred form not to be flinging one’s arms about, but I suspect I now hold the key to the real truth behind the origins of Irish Dancing… you see, I’ve been observing Ahrran!

I’ve been watching Ahrran, my Irish Wolfhound male, and his cousins too, and if you’ve ever seen an Irish Wolfhound male become all excited, then you’ll know what I’m going to say next.

Irish Wolfhound males, when excited (about anything – breakfast, long lost rellies, unexpected visitors, nana and pop, the neighbour’s cat…) perform an intricate front foot/leg movement which bears a very strong resemblance to an Irish jig. The rest of the body is held relatively stiff, but the front legs tap and leap about to some faraway music that only they must hear.

Paddy somebody-or-other must have stumbled home late one balmy Irish evening, drunk as a lord, singing ‘When Irish Eyes are Smiling’ (or whatever they sang in those days!) at the top of his lungs, to be greeted in a joyous manner by his loyal wolfhound, who saw in his master’s return, not only company, but the possibility of being fed! So excited was this wolfhound, that he broke into a little dance. Impressed, Paddy must have mimicked his hound’s fancy footwork (being drunk, this would not be surprising) and later shown all his friends… and so was born Irish Dancing!

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