I danced for 5 hours on Sunday night - the music at the CurlyWurly Sunday event in Huddersfield was wonderful, the dancers varied and considerate - except for a prat who danced like he was drunk (but sadly wasn't) and wandered across the floor (through the slots and in front of dancers) like he had no self-awareness (which unsurprisingly he didn't). There was a gentleman who declined to dance with our host - how short-sighted is that? I danced the best I could but throughout I felt I should be giving more. My energy was not sufficient to do my share - I had failed in my first task. A malaise sets in. By Tuesday it hit a new low. I gazed at the freestyle dance floor and it felt alien. Three or four dances in it felt alien too. What on earth was I doing there? But the time I was due to dance again I sensed the writing was on the wall for that night. I didn't belong there. I left - heavy hearted at the change in me - assured it would change ...