'I carried a watermelon'

I wonder how many blogposts/newspaper articles/conversations have included this line in the past three days? I watched Dirty Dancing last night (I am proud to say I own a copy) in honour of Patrick Swayze.

I watched it for the first time on my 13th birthday. It was my birthday treat, and the first time I'd seen my parents since going to boarding school. They came through with one of my closest childhood friends and took me out of the hostel to watch it, and go out for dinner. I was desperately homesick so spent most of the time thinking up plots to hide in the boot of the car so I wouldn't have to go back to the hostel.

That was until the movie started and I was enthralled by the fabulousness of it all. I blushingly watched the 'torrid' scenes (remember, we were 13, and it was the '80's - it was torrid for then, when watching with your parents) and was transported with Baby and Johnny - I could virtually smell the rain outside when she went up to his house... sigh!

And that was the first of many, many, viewings. I love that it was on my 13th birthday. I love that we spent our entire first year of high school watching it, listening to the soundtrack, dreaming of going to a 'summer resort' in the mountains with a gorgeous dance teacher who we'd fall in love with while learning dance moves in the dappled sunshine of a lake. Someone who'd pull us out of our chairs and say: "Nobody puts Baby in the corner." I love that it was so innocent. And I especially love that watching it, still now, I can tap into that innocence, and appreciate the joy of being 13 and still believing that carrying a watermelon up to the staff quarters could be the beginning of something beautiful.

And my god, but he really was gorgeous in that movie - Patrick - bless him. If the storybook version of angels exist, he'll be so very beautiful with wings. May he rest peacefully.

Where's my watermelon?