The party's not over until the old man dances

I didn't really want to have to go to the family party but Sophia insisted that I had to meet her Grandfather. So we drove all the way up the hill to the villa which was packed with Sophia's relatives - all of whom wanted to check out the Englishman with the presumption to fall in love with their darling Sophia. We ate strong-tasting sausage with the local, hard bread and drank wine from her Uncle's vineyard. I was presented to her grandfather - an impossibly ancient man who smiled broadly at me, patted me on the shoulder and nodded.

"Can we go now?" I whispered, when I was able to talk to Sophia on my own. I had to concentrate to understand the heavily accented Italian and the effort was making me tired.
"Not yet!" She smiled at me. "The party's not over yet."

I drank some more wine and let the babble wash over me. Drowning in a warm sea of sound.

After a while, I noticed a change in the quality of the hubbub. Sophia's father was playing a guitar - a jaunty, dragging tune that limped around the terrace, kissing each person on each cheek. The gathered relatives clapped along, softly, and I saw that Sophia's grandfather was dancing.

The old man danced through the hot evening while his family clapped him and it was beautiful.