Short Stories B1: Learning to dance

I went to England with my mother.

She used to be a singer in a band.

We went to the hotel that she used to sing at.

It was a big fancy hotel.

Some of the people that she knew when she sang in the band were still there.

They remembered my mother, and they had a good time talking to her and remembering old times.

Many people told me that I looked like my mother.

In the hotel, they had a fancy hall where they had ballroom dancing.

I am not used to that kind of dancing.

I always dance to rock music.

A man told me that he would teach me how to dance.

It looked very easy.

I held one of his hands, and put my other hand on his shoulder.

He told me exactly how to move my feet.

I was very clumsy, and I stepped on his toes.

He was patient with me, and he counted "one, two, three".

I tried to waltz with him.

I would start out pretty well, but then I would get mixed up and stand on his toes again.

The man laughed about it.

I told him that I wasn't a very good dancer, but he said that I was good for a beginner.

I think he was just being polite.

The man asked my mother to dance.

My mother is a very good dancer.

I didn't know that about her.

She never stepped on the man's toes once.

The man thanked us for dancing with him, and I thanked him for giving me dancing lessons.

I don't think I'll ever be very good at that type of dancing.

Each generation has a specific type of dancing.

The way that I dance is different from the way that my mother dances.

The way that I dance doesn't involve moving your feet too much.

I'm not too good at fancy steps.