Why I Couldn't Stop Dancing.

Been a while since I posted. We've been a bit busy over here and I've been a bit demented. Can you blame me?

Anyway, on a much lighter note, I came across something slightly hilarious when sorting through a desk the other day. Here it is.

Yes, that's supposed to me be, but is actually the most Laura Dern-looking "me" I've ever seen.
So here's the story, and since it's about me, it involves the ubiquitous degree of embarrassment. I was at a Millennium party with a group of old friends. Fairly posh do, sitting in a ball room with large round tables. It was midway through the evening, with much dancing going on and (obviously) much wine imbibed.
I had finished my first marathon dancing sprint and was heading back to the table for more wine refreshment, when a cartoonist came up behind me. As a joke (why do I do this?) I flung my arms up and did a little dance. They had started playing "I Will Survive" - I mean how could you not? I would have stayed on the dance floor had I known it was up next. I sincerely wish I had.
So, the guy whips out the paper and charcoal and starts to draw me. Which means that I could hardly just sit down and start chatting to my neighbor could I? Ever the polite Brit, I stayed on my feet, dancing like an idiot, while The Ball & Chain and friends sat quietly chatting and pretending I was a stranger who had merely stopped at the wrong table.
Argh. And that song goes on for ages. Pretty soon people on neighboring tables had noticed, and yes, they were laughing at me not with me. I don't blame them. I'm just glad no one else knew me. I have to say, I was exhausted by the time he presented me with the not-very-good cartoon. All that work and it could have been anybody!
Why does it always happen to me? (Rhetorical question. Don't answer that!)
Happy New Year.