Down at the Western Wall in the heart of Jerusalem, this was the scene on Saturday night as the yeshiva students danced out the passing of the Sabbath and the festival of Shavuos, way into the early hours.
Only echoing over their heads, they must have been able to hear the high-energy efforts of the scratch band at my daughter's engagement party, for we held it on a huge terrace overlooking the Western Wall plaza. That was in her fiance's yeshiva. So separate sex dancing ... and spectacular displays of non-stop virtuoso dancing and in-your-face joy from the girls in particular.
So many girls... where did they all come from, said my daughter's fiance in amazement.
And it was true. Some of them had actually flown in from the US to be there, and young women from all over Israel who hadn't seen my daughter since last year showed up unexpectedly to join in the dancing.
I'd promised Mrs Cleansleeves I'd bring back some photos to show her.
So when she saw this one, she said, Oh, your daughter looks so like you... Now, why is she wearing such informal clothes? Wasn't there a formal ceremony where he gave her the ring? And what was happening at this stage in the proceedings?
Reverse order answers: there's a sort of tribute song where the friends surround the newly engaged girl as if she were a princess and they were her admiring attendants.
At some traditional Jewish engagement parties, they do have a formal ceremony which involves breaking a plate, which seals contractual expectations. But my daughter and her fiance decided not to do that because of the complications in Jewish law that produces if anything should go wrong....
In most orthodox Jewish weddings it all happens on the wedding day. There's a formal betrothal ceremony and then the actual wedding within minutes of each other.
It doesn't stop the young man from giving his fiance a ring when they get engaged... and if you look very closely at her left hand, you can see that in their case, he did....And so they didn't need the formality. It was a very Israeli-yeshiva style event, informal and full of life and joy.
They were pretty happy, too.
Oooh, Mrs Cleansleeves exclaimed. I'm sure I know the young man.
Not very likely, I said. He's from Mill Hill. And he's spent the last two years in Jerusalem.
Well, you know, she said, we actually live in Mill Hill.
Ah, I thought. A Hindu Jewish version of Jewish geography.
And I loved it, and loved being there. I'd got over worrying about just how togged up in modest dress I needed to be. Could I turn up bare-headed, as I usually am, or would I need to cover my hair? So given that I always take extreme care to try to anticipate the sensitivities of any religious community I visit, I decided to wear my straw sombrero. I needn't have bothered. There were older women friends from the local orthodox community who turned up bareheaded. And my cousin from Haifa asked if I was trying to look like the men of Mea Shearim.
But by then, I just enjoyed the dancing. And was chuffed to find I could keep dancing with the best of them. I'm still a recovering couch potato. But I can give quite a few lifelong fitness freaks of my age a run for their money.