So..you know you have a dancer when there are hair pins everywhere, the radiators are lagged with leotards and tights, you hum The Sugar Plum Fairy music (or equivalent) while pushing the trolley round the supermarket, the computer is set to a dance suppliers page, the living room is littered with bits of kit designed to loosen muscles but which look like instruments of torture and your girl (in my case) stands in front of you saying, 'What do you think of my line..is it better like this........or this?' and you have to admit to being able to see no difference....even Jboy knows the phrase,'I'm just taking......to dancing'. And today, bearing in mind the holidays are coming to an end and she will be back at ballet school in two days time, I was informed that a certain pair of dance shoes, needed and vital for next term are required. Now. Or indeed preferably yesterday. Supermum (and the internet) to the rescue...shoes located, ordered and an exorbitant amount for express postage paid and they should be here in time. What did we do without the internet????
Bet Fred Astaire never had this problem.
The End
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