Ask me what I miss most in life, and I will have to say that it's dance. I miss dancing more than I could perhaps even miss a person, because it was always just that much a part of my life.
It began, of course, with ballet at school, which, to my great credit, I used and followed through on until I was in my late twenties and then quit, for good reason, though that's for me to know, not you. My school was closing down and the relocation would be simply too far for me to travel, and the other ballet school cost twice as much money which at the time I didn't have and frankly don't know whether or not I would have it now.
I also took tap, and drove my family nuts with my tap shoes, kicking up a storm on the kitchen tile or out in the back "garden" cement (there was no grass in our garden in Tottenham; I'm not even sure it even qualifies as a garden as much as an "out-back" where you have a shed and a few old bikes and set of fireworks on Guy Fawkes night. That was about right - it was more some cement staging ground than garden, which suited me fine, for I could practice dance out there as long as I wanted, or until the grown-ups got really tired of me. I also used to dance on top of my grandfather’s feet, gently placing each tap shoe on his big work boots while he carried me atop his feet, waltzing and whirling about the room.
I danced in nightclubs as soon as I could sneak in; at about age fifteen I managed to swindle my way into of-age clubs. It's all make-up and attitude and besides, I never went to drink, I went only to dance, and though the dance had no name or real form, there were certain rules that applied and certain moves that were common and I mastered them all until I became so good that one evening, I was lifted high to the top of a speaker at Palladium and danced before thousands of people.