The Comedown

This weekend was absolutely crammed with dancing, starting with a duet on Friday evening at a hafla organised by BAMBA, then another duet and a solo performance on Saturday at a hafla planned and executed with military precision by my good friend and troupemate C, then a two hour intensive class.

I had little or no sleep all weekend, too much pop (soda) and not enough food, bought a frightening amount of stuff, worked muscles I didn't know I had, and achieved some seriously startling hairstyles (protoype below, I don't have any pictures from the weekend yet)

All in all, it was a fabulous, decadent weekend, in which everything else got subsumed by sparkles, sweat and the sheer joy of spending time doing something I love.

It came as a bit of a blow this morning then to realise that I had to unwind the victory rolls, take off the red nail varnish and put Lilith back in her box in favour of my much less interesting (but far more fiscally sound) persona, whose name is that on my birth certificate. Back to typing up reports, unjamming the photocopier, emptying the dishwasher and taking out the bins. Booring.