Last modified on Fri 8 Jan 2021 14.09 EST
First, Iâd like to apologise to my neighbours. Last year was difficult enough, and I doubt the sight of me attempting to twerk in my overlooked garden did much for anyoneâs mental health; but it worked wonders for my own.
Dancing has always made me happy. My family would peer around the doorframe to spy on my daily worship at the altar of MTV in the living room; I appeared in every school dance show, which, in my opinion, still bests any of my academic achievements. And I love nothing more than going for it on a dancefloor, always bringing flip-flops to weddings and parties (remember those?) lest stupid shoes get in the way of a good groove. I have attended various dance classes at gyms, but as the stresses and time constraints of working motherhood got in the way, my only regular âworkoutsâ came from sorting the washing while listening to Destinyâs Child.