Dancin' In The Kitchen

Feeling a bit low tonight as we wait for news of an old and very dear Uncle, the last of my late Dad's siblings, who is getting near the end of the road. Following on from the recent loss of G's grandfather, who shared the same Christian name of Arthur, it feels like the Old Guard are moving on.

Not wanting to slide down into the doldrums, I applied the best anti-depressant I know: music and dancing in my own wee kitchen disco. Graceland was a gift from my daughter at Christmas in 1990, and God alone knows how many times over the years it has been played. Abi and I danced to it in our living room when there were just the two of us in our family; my sister and I, and her wee boy (now the tallest nephew) jigged around to it until we collapsed, exhausted and laughing, onto the sofa.

Tonight I was cutting the rug by myself in the kitchen, until I blew those blues away.

What will be, will be. Until then, let there be music.