Letters to my sons.

Dear Son,

when ever your mother and I play music in the house you like to get up and have a dance, you enjoy it even more when one of us joins in.

I was listening to some music this morning on my iPod on the way to work and got carried away with the track. I was listening to an old Euphoria album and was taken back in time to a warehouse rave. I was very close to throwing some shapes on the train (small fish, big fish, small box, big box). Luckily I got a grip before taking someone’s eye out with a flailing hand.

This is not the first time that music has carried me away. The day before we were due to fly to Trinidad for carnival a few years ago I was getting my self in the mood with some sweet Soca on my iPod. Low Rise (by Traffik featuring Sean Caruth) came on and I put my arm out to slip it around the waist of the woman in front of me. In my own mind I was in Soca fete somewhere trying to “Teef a wine”, in reality I was on Stratford station waiting for a train into Liverpool Street on a cold February morning.

Luckily reality returned before I was arrested. Or even worse, laughed at by the young woman for my robotic wine action. Despite your mother’s best efforts my wine only really comes into its own when I am well and truly plastered and so is everyone else.

Unlike Denise Belfon.