n.b. A tin has been rattling from kerb to brick wall to lamp-post through much of the night. Storm Ciara arrived on schedule and is gusting through the terraced streets creating whorls and eddies of air that tear at fences and buffet trees and whisk this can in merry circuits; Saturday night fever indeed! I am not going out in pyjamas to break up the dance party.
n.b. Remember the youth club, or school disco? Nightmare scenario. Boys on one side of the hall, girls dancing around handbags. Then, with just a few minutes before the lights would go up, the DJ would put on something like “Nights in White Satin” by The Moody Blues and the excitement or embarrassment of asking for a dance, being asked to dance and possibly having a slow dance would begin, leaving the wallflowers and perpetually tongue-tied watching on in a confusion of emotions ranging from relief to frustration.