It was my mum’s 60th birthday recently, so we hired a hall and had a party with lots of family and friends.
Occasions like this are always good for catching up with godmothers you haven’t seen in a while,
Or those far-flung relatives that only remember you when you were a skinny, blond-haired kid, not the receding, beer-bellied oaf you are now.
These parties are also good for some old-fashioned dad dancing.
After maybe three rum and Cokes, I heard some songs I liked and found myself on the dance floor.
Embarrassingly, at one stage I think I was the only one up there.
Alcohol has a magical way of deflecting shame.
It’s only the morning after, in the cold, hung-over light of day, that it all comes flooding back.
Three days later, my legs were still aching like I’d taken part in some sort of cross-country challenge.
God knows what kind of moves I was pulling off!
But all can’t be as bad as it seems. Because over dinner next day, my daughter looked up from her salad and said ‘your dancing is so embarrassing mum’
Not a mention of her old dad showing her up on the dance floor. The kids thought my dancing was ‘all right’.
I’ll have some of that. In fact I’ll be dining out on it for a very long time to come.
Maybe us men have upped our game, or is ‘mum dancing’ a new phenomenon sweeping the nation?
I think it could be.
You see, my mum is a big Robbie Williams fan. Seeing that no-one in the family has won the Euro Millions, at the party she was presented with the next best thing – a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Robbie.
And when the DJ played Let Me Entertain You, mum proceeded to dance around the floor with the cardboard cut-out!
I can’t see the attraction myself.
But looking at the photo montage my cousin put together for the night, there was a pic of mum with an ex-boyfriend from her teenage years who looked like Fred West.
I suppose Robbie must be an improvement on that.