Footloose

It’s silly but tonight I am going to a Ball, a proper ball with dancing.

It’s not often these days that I get to dance, except of course round the kitchen with the boys when no one else is looking. I mean I don’t even dance when Dear Charlie is about. I don’t know why, perhaps I just feel a tad embarrassed. It can’t be a very pretty sight seeing a past-it forty-five year old cavorting round the kitchen table doing her funky stuff to seriously out-dated tunes.

My boys don’t mind and nor do the dogs in fact they join in getting all skittish and jumping up and down. The boys have even been known to dance on the table, although I suppose I shouldn’t encourage that for fear of rather large expense bills when they are older and deciding that it would be a good idea to do in some London nightclub or worse at someone’s wedding….

For me though I love to dance, I love losing myself in it and I suppose that is the reason why I don’t want people to catch me at it, I mean at home. When we lose ourselves we don’t care what we look like we are there in the moment and so utterly free and well, as I said, if someone else were to spy us well they wouldn’t understand and I hate being a laughing stock, I have some pride!

But at a ball, where everyone is expected to dance I can hide among a crowd and really let my hair down. And that is why I am so looking forward to this evening a chance to dance  in the open where no one will think I am odd and no one will be looking….

Just one of the many songs that gets my toes tapping...