I’ve never really been what you could call a patron of the arts kinda cat. Music I’m up for. Music’s like football. Or sex. Time stops. Thinking stops. There’s it and nothing else. To be honest, I’ve gone to some pretty extreme lengths to get to hear somebody whose grooves have put the bite into me. I got hit by a car on the way to a Jimmy Cliff gig, scraped my ass off the deck, hobbled to the stadium and self-medicated like a demon rather than miss Mister Joe Higgs and associates at work. Theatre, dance and so on are not really my flute of draught. I dig dancing, although I have two extremely left feet. Dancing’s either a form of foreplay or that bodily madness that happens when The Fat Man bangs one in for Bucs (but not when he gets sent off like he did on Saturday night) or when the sounds are bangin’ and there’s absolutely no way to stay off your feet. But watching organised dance makes as much sense to me as watching a play, especially if there’s no bar and there’s a game on in any league any where. So it’s gonna be something of an education to hit Jomba – the annual Durban dance festival which I have never graced with my presence – this weekend. The contemporary dance festival has been around for 14 years and kicks off at the Sneddon Theatre on Wednesday night. The Flatfoot Dance Company, who have been around for pretty much as long as Jomba, will be performing. The festival runs till Sunday September 9. I won’t make the Wednesday gig. There’s footie on. And deadlines. Truth is I’m not likely to make any performances. However, Friday night I will crawl on my belly through a pile of broken beer bottles if need be to get to the Jomba City party at the beachfront skate park to join the dance crowd. The BLK JKS and Fruits and Veggies will be rocking it, a super warm-up for the annual Jazz Jol at UKZN on Saturday, which is perfectly timed to fit in with a busy day’s football and work dodging. I just hope I don’t stand on any of the dancers’ toes with my size 10s.