Sunday, April 20, 2003
I've been a bit depressed the past couple of weeks. (Reasons, my dears, Reasons.) Nothing too serious. But this morning the Black Dog bit me pretty hard.
However, personal experience has proved no-one can remain down for long when drinking Moët and/ or tap-dancing. The first option was out, so I put on "Tap Your Troubles Away" from Mack and Mabel, and, like the song advises, danced 'cross the floor, till my ankles got sore.
You know what? It worked. So, of course, one thing led to another. Annie ("The Sun'll Come Out Tomorrow"). Gypsy ("Everything's Coming Up Roses"). Even (and may God forgive me for this) The Sound of Music ("I Have Confidence In Me").
It was only halfway through me and the Hairbrush lip-synching the entire score of Hairspray, that I realised the three snotty-nosed kids from across the road were sniggering at the Funny Man in the Ground-Floor Flat.
And like the Camp Queen I can sometimes play to perfection, I just carried on. So, I suppose you can stop worrying about me. Looks like I'm on the mend..