When I left the club last night and went out into the cool Coventry air, the night came to a close in the best of ways. I stood there . . . . and steamed. Yes, there was steam rising off me. It felt good.
I danced.
And when I say danced I don’t mean the kind of dance that people do where they hold a bottle in one hand while trying to look cool and catch some uninterested girls eye. No, I danced like a man possessed by the spirit of Jack Daniels. I had the perfect amount to drink – that great feeling where you know you’ve been drinking, but you’re not hammered and you don’t feel ill – and with strategic top up drinks the feeling lasted all night. They played great music – apart from a bit in the middle where they went on some random 80’s stuff – and played requests. I even bumped into a guy in an Iron Maiden t-shirt and discovered that he was going to see them the same time I was.
In all my years of dancing I have never danced for so long or for so hard as I did that night. By the time we got kicked out I was absolutely drenched in sweat. Truly nasty, but the unavoidable by product of spending the night in a heavy metal frenzy!!