Dance like there's no tomorrow.

We went to a 40th birthday party on Saturday night, which as we approach our mid forties is becoming something of a rare event. Nothing makes you feel more middle aged then the comment a friend of ours made, What? You still know people young enough to be 40?

However, age isn't everything as I'm sure you'll agree. And you're only as old as the woman you feel or the man you dance with etc, so we went out to forget how old we were and to have a good time.

A good time in my husband's case normally means avoiding the dance floor at all costs, whereas to me that is the whole point of going out.

We have some very good friends who always lead the dancing on such occasions. In fact the reason I actually know the moves to the Macarena is entirely down to them. So when my other half declines to join me to strut his funky stuff, I usually end up dancing with them instead. I don't care if no one's looking...

As we had to factor in a ten year old's birthday party first (where they also did a lot of dancing - including the strangest version of Oopsupsideyourhead I've ever seen. Ok, ok, there's not much competition for that slot...), followed by the highlight of our week, for which no social occasion is important enough for us to miss - namely the family fest of hiding behind the sofa - we got to the party rather late, by which time my dancing buddy was rather the worse for wear.

Never mind, I joined her anyway, and had a huge laugh trying to escape the attentions of an unwanted beau. Now when I was twenty I would have been deeply offended by his charmless chat up lines (I believe he told me I was frigid at one point), but now I am middle aged I think it is hilarious that anyone other then my husband is interested in my charms such as they are. I did tell him at one point I was old enough to be his mother, but forebore from using my favourite putdown which is Married, Four Children, Do You Really Want to Know? Last time I used that one New Year when I was pregnant (but my potential hero hadn't spotted this as I was sitting down) I've never seen someone run so fast. I have a feeling Saturday's loverboy was so desperate that wouldn't actually have put him off.

But I digress. I managed to avoid shimmying up to LB, and eventually (having ascertained that my other half had drunk just enough to lose his inhbitions, but not so much he wasn't able to dance) got my husband to strut his funky stuff with me. The deeply annoying thing about my husband is that he could be a very very fine dancer, but he is far to English and self conscious. So it is only a combination of red wine and You Really Got Me by the Kinks which gets him dancing. Mind you, once he's up there, it is also very hard to get him away...

Eventually it had passed the witching hour and it really was time to drag ourselves home. We left to the sight of our hostess with the mostest being slam dunked against a wall, without a thought to what tomorrow would bring...

Tomorrow in fact brought a rather bad back.

But that's what being 40 does to you....