Dancefloor

December 26th 2018

Today a calm, casual, Boxing Day Christmas 2.0 down Grandma’s somehow ended with five of us belting out Oasis at 3:30am. I can’t speak for everyone else, but for me the culprit was Southern Comfort. I’d never had it before, but it was definitely comforting.

Usually I’m asleep on the sofa by 11pm on Boxing Day, but dark liquor kept me going this year. And I wouldn’t have had much luck sleeping on the sofa anyway, because that’s the area around which the after party continued into the early morning.

Like a nightclub DJ spurred by the encore of his baying crowd, Steve just continued to play “one more song”. He controlled the Spotify, which was connected to Dad’s new wireless speaker. We had agreed to end on a thematically relevant rendition of Fairytale of New York, but then he started playing The Kooks and I had to stay up for that. And also for Meatloaf.

The song we eventually closed the curtain to was I Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor. Because we did. Except the dance floor was the living room carpet of my Grandma’s house. And maybe a little bit of her sofas, if one of our party fancied a bit more elevation

Until tomorrow, I bet that we looked good on the dance floor.

Jacn

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