I mentioned before that dancing is one of my all-time favourite things to do, and yet I rarely actually do it.   Can you simply forget to do something you like?   It seems so as I don’t think I’m the only one to be suddenly surprised by the thought “I used to love doing that!”

But one of the reasons I don’t do it much is because clubs and parties are the natural habitat of dancers, neither of which I enjoy.   I used to dance more when I was living in the Maldives because, well, there wasn’t a great deal else to do in terms of a social life.   Except crab racing.   Dancing on sand doesn’t really get easier.

It’s taken me a long time to become okay with the fact that I don’t like to party:   what sort of person doesn’t, after all?   It has always felt a little shameful and as if there was something wrong with me, making me feel even more insecure and even less likely to party.   One of my favourite things about getting older is not feeling the need to pretend any more.   In my thirties I still felt like I should be enjoying these things; in my forties I’ve made peace with the fact that it’s more important to be honest about who I am.   Even if that’s a weirdo who doesn’t see the point of partying.   As it turns out, quite a few people feel like me, even Johnny Depp.

This year of living authentically has been about shedding layers of pretence, which has included learning to embrace my inner square-ness.   I’m the only one I need to impress and I no longer care how cool I am.   Ironically, on the rare occasions when I do venture out to party, this attitude means I enjoy it more.   And I do like an excuse to dress up.

In the meantime, I need to remember I really don’t need an excuse to dance, except for the love of it.   I can do it in my kitchen or even in a queue (a la Full Monty) if the mood takes me.   Who cares?   Any time, any place, anywhere, simply for the pleasure of shaking my ass!