...until, that is, I was on my way home from town tonight, when I walked into Oxford Circus tube station, and on my way to the platform there happened to be a busker belting out a karaoke version of New York, New York, and there before me was a wide and empty corridor, and suddenly the muse Terpsichore was whispering in my ear, saying "do it, homegirl! do it now!" So I danced, and high-kicked and twirled, and kicked some more, and threw my hat in the air, and generally behaved as if the path down to the Victoria line was a big lit-up Hollywood staircase. And yeah, the friend I was with did roll her eyes a bit, and I think the busker was a bit pissed off I didn't give him any money (what, and stop dancing?), but hey, at least the guys in the station control room probably got a bit of a giggle out of it. And it felt gooood, darnit.
Yes, I'd been drinking. Why do you ask?