Diamond Jive in Tulse Hill

A wise woman once said to me: ‘Sex and dancing are exercise. Everything else is a form of torture’. There is, in my view, a great deal of logic in this. I’ve tried the gym (boring, depressing, full of people who bend over naked in changing rooms), swimming (time-consuming, full of children and questionable things floating in the water) and yoga (too many smug, farting people). I’ve had enough. Maybe I should resign myself to life as a couch potato, watching Jeremy Kyle and eating spaghetti hoops out of the can. Or maybe I should find myself a dance class.

When it comes to dancing, there’s always the ‘go out ‘til 4am, drink ten tequila slammers and wave your arms around’ approach, but this is the Living Well section. We don’t do that kind of thing. So when my fabulously glamorous friend invited me jive dancing, I thought I’d go along and see what all the fuss was about.

For those of you who haven’t noticed, retro is quietly making its mark on the London scene. And this isn’t your standard ’60s, ’70s, ’80s brigade, this is going way back – back to the days of ’50s aprons, ’40s pin curls, ’30s pillar-box hats and ’20s flapper dresses. Suddenly it’s all about tea parties, vintage and yup – jive dancing.

When I arrived at the pub in Tulse Hill (yes, it’s near Dulwich. Don’t ask) for my first jive experience, it looked like a pretty average night. People sitting around drinking, the odd cigarette, a lot of pizza. Then the music started up, and out of nowhere they all arrived. Gaggles of girls with bright, perfectly curled hair and the kind of vintage dresses I always wish I could find. In a whirl of fake eyelashes and red lipstick the dancing began – from my perch at the side, it looked energetic, great fun, and…kind of easy. They were kicking their legs out and bouncing a lot. I can do that.

Ten minutes later, I was lying across a chair outside, gulping water and apologising to the 27 people whose toes I had trodden on. Jive dancing, it turns out, is not as easy as it looks.

Over the next couple of hours we kicked, spun and bounced our way through a myriad of retro classics. The night starts around nine, and then the dancing carries on until the small hours. And don’t be shy – people will ask you to dance, and a simple ‘erm, I’m really bad’ doesn’t usually stop them.

Don’t let the lipstick fool you, this is a serious workout. I literally thought I might fall over after one and a half songs, and woke up the next morning with the kind of stiff legs you’d normally get from a 5k run. But unlike a 5k run, it’s fantastic, addictive fun. The atmosphere is friendly and inclusive, the instruction is great and above all, it doesn’t feel like torture. Get your dancing shoes on and join the revolution.

For a friendly crowd and jiving ’til late head to Diamond Jive, monthly at the Queen’s Head in Brixton and at the Railway Tavern in Tulse Hill. If that’s a little far out of town for you, try Hula Boogie for a great selection of classes.