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I was told once that I've got natural movement. The beat of the music could be matched by the beat of my heart. "You play it... and I'll sway it."

This came home to me this week when I chatted, on air in my programme, to Gavin Henson about his progress in Strictly Come Dancing. My word, he's getting better. His quickstep was a vast improvement on his previous displays. His problem, up to then, according to the judges, was his inability to let himself go: he couldn't unleash his personality. For years I had this problem - my natural movement was caged in a body beset with too many shy genes.

My grammar school days did not unleash my potential on the dance floor. They did try: in the sixth form, from September to December in preparation for the Christmas party, there were compulsory ballroom dancing lessons. We were frogmarched to the gymnasium, twice a week, for lessons in the waltz, the foxtrot, the cha cha cha, the tango and even the gay Gordon's.

I quite liked the latter, for it was quite structured and easy and you changed partners without too many mishaps. The rest was a maelstrom of arms, legs and a back so stiff it would have doubled as a gravestone.

Being allocated a partner was also a lottery. Boys would be lined against one set of wall-bars and the girls would be lined along the opposite bars. You could easily see which number in the row you were and, as you counted the girls to find who was opposite you, there was many a whispered groan of "Oh God, look who I've got," followed by a plea of "Go on, I'll give you half a crown if you change places with me".

Actually, I had a load of luck, I was allocated Delia, an attractive girl from the upper sixth, so I was a toy-boy. She was great, but the downer was that I was only comfortable with her and at the sixth form Christmas party I was hopeless in dancing with others.

The great things about those dancing lessons were the actual dancing teachers, who were the heads of PE for boys and girls. Mr Adams, for the boys, was in the autumn of his teaching career. He was 56. Miss Norman, head of PE for girls, was in the early spring of her teaching career. She was 24 and out of some glossy magazine.

She was lovely and the great joy was that if, as a young lad of 16, 17 or 18, you couldn't do a dance, she'd come and help you and hold you close. I have to tell you, one dip and turn in the tango with Miss Norman could advance a boy's education by a leap of years.

Roy and Elaine Noble dancing on their honeymoon

Over the years I've had lots of lessons and, to be fair, I have loosened up. My wife Elaine and I attended lessons together and it did help, up the point that the tutors in the class suddenly took a contract on a P&O liner to South Africa and left us mid-cha cha cha.

I can waltz, though, and I do like a jive, even though Elaine always says that the past landlord of the Gloucester Arms in Aberdare was the king of jive. He was better than me, even if he had to wear daps because of his bad feet.

My last musical lunge at dancing was my New Year's resolution, a few years ago. I wanted to learn the Argentinean Tango. I was given lessons, in a hall in Tumble, filmed by Heno for S4C, by a very lithe lady from Llanelli.

She was too good for me too powerful. Whenever she wrapped her leg tightly around my upper thigh it stopped all the blood getting to my ankles. I always ended up with nasty pins and needles. No, my body's beat being in tune with the beat of the music it may be, but only in the waltz I think. So, altogether now: "One two three, one two three..."

Roy

Roy Noble is bringing his famous storytelling skills to a computer near you as part of the ´óÏó´«Ã½ First Click Campaign - aimed at encouraging people to take their first steps to getting online. If you know somebody who needs help to get online, call the free ´óÏó´«Ã½ First Click advice line on 08000 150950.