We are old, but we boogie

Yesterday we went to an excellent party thrown by a friend of a friend who had just turned 60. What a marvellous party! A huge garden, two marquees, a hog roast, endless prosecco (or whatever your tipple is), very smart women wearing bright colours, linen clothes and artistic jewellery (is my jewellery artistic enough? Noooo.) and white haired men wearing coloured stripey shirts and chinos. After the eating, drinking and chatting it was a short walk to the village hall, where a band had been hired to play lots of old rock songs so we could boogie, and there were even inflatable guitars piled up so we could all augment our air-guitar moves with lightweight props. I watched closely. It was fascinating. We might have doubled in size since 1975, or we might be pretty much the same size, and just rather more wrinkly, but we dance in exactly the same way as we did when we were teenagers, which is rather wonderful really. Oh, and this is me too. I hardly ever dance; it doesn't seem appropriate. Last night it would have been rude not to, and I can still bop as though I have springs in my legs. In fact, I like dancing. We never learned to dance of course, we just copied each other; we copied the girls on Top of the Pops, and some of my contemporaries copied Mick Jagger's moves - and last night I saw a headmistress doing exactly that. Our children make excellent speeches about what great parents we are ( and even what great grandparents we are). It really is fun!