And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music...

said Nietzsche (and one day I'll be able to write his name without checking the spelling 27 times)

It happens at parties, doesn't it? There are those who dance and there are those who watch people dancing, with slightly curdled expressions on their faces. These could be the designated drivers.

OR...

H.P. Lovecraft's theory is that “Almost nobody dances sober, unless they happen to be insane.”

SO - last night I was one of the dancers (AND, incidentally, the designated driver) I didn't dress as a cowboy in the end, at the East Meets West party - see yesterday's blog - I dressed as a belly dancer.

Well, more...

with less flesh revealed, not in high heels, no jangly bits, and a flabbier belly. I daresay there will be embarrassing pictures on Facebook.

 I didn't do any belly dancing. The hits of Abba don't somehow lend themselves to it. And my belly muscles don't seem to be able to ripple very much. They can flob though.

Discovered a new music genre too, thanks to half the guests being from The East - Uzbekistan or other Stans I can't remember.

The very BEST music to dance to, drunk, sober or insane. "Awesome house balkan gypsy fusion."

Great party! Thanks so much, Mark and Madi.