I Came, I Saw, I Ceilidhed

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your hand as I step on your toes and kick you in the shins. 

I’ve tried my fair share of Dashing White Sergeants and Canadian Barn Dances — many apologies to those I’ve roped into dancing with me. Since coming to Scotland for my year abroad, I still have not yet mastered the coordination necessary for an effortless whirl around the dance floor. But I suppose that when in Rome, you do as the Romans do. As they would say, alea iacta est (the die was cast) and I was set to embarrass myself yet again — but this time dancing with those clad in togas and laurel crowns. 

So to practice my moves and memorialise the 2,069th anniversary of Caesar’s assassination, I joined the St Andrews History Society, the School of History, and the School of Classics for their Ides of March Ceilidh. On Friday, 13 March, I ventured down to Holy Trinity Church Hall for a couple of hours of spinning, stomping, and all-around great fun. 

I was trepidatious about coming to the ceilidh, as I knew no one who was attending. Yet I crossed my Rubicon — the stoop of the church hall — and found myself in the company of new friends (and Romans and countrymen, of course). I was a tad late, so upon arrival, the dancing was in full swing. The hall was cheerfully decorated, with a refreshment table at the rear and a live band up on the stage. 

The dress code said to adorn ‘black tie, or your finest toga,’ and a few emboldened attendees took the toga part to heart. At my home school, donning a toga is reminiscent of sticky, sweaty, gross fraternity parties. I was happy for a more refined event where my outfit wouldn’t get soaked with cheap keg beer. 

At the Ides of March ceilidh, the company was much more cheerful and civilised. The dancing was surprisingly coordinated, perhaps because the refreshment table was only serving juice and water. I enjoyed snacking on the assortment of grapes and baked goods; it was a welcome respite from a pounded-back tequila shot at a hall ceilidh. 

I set out to interview some of my fellow attendees, but in all honesty, I was having such a grand time ceilidh-ing that I didn’t want to pause the festivities. Those I did chat with appreciated the twist on your regular ceilidh, describing it as “very thematic” with a “creative spin” (no pun intended). In my opinion, the hall was not decorated much differently from a regular Caledonian Society reeling practice. But the spirit of those in attendance made this event shine, as I was readily welcomed into the fold of history and classics aficionados. 

If you cannot tell by this point in the article, I am a bona fide Classics nerd — the Roman Empire is actually my ‘Roman Empire.’ In addition, I am also an English major with a flair for Shakespeare, so I was ultimately disappointed that I didn’t get to make an “Et tu, Brute?” reference, but elated that I got to spend the Ides of March (eve’s eve) waltzing around with those who would have found my joke funny. 

I left slightly sweaty and out of breath, but grateful to experience events like these that make St Andrews a wonderfully unique place. Tickets were £8 for History Society members, and £10 for non-members, which I thought was quite reasonable for a truly delightful evening. If you are of the faction that celebrates 15 March as the Ides of March, look no further than History Society’s annual ceilidh. 

Photo: Fiona McAllister