My beau and I love dance music - nothing too hardcore just upbeat, handbag house. Enough of a kick to make you want to put your hands in the air. But no so much you end up with tinnitus the next day.I used to be a serious clubber - often seen on gay boys shoulders at the Fridge in Brixton or clinging precariously to a pole/ledge/podium at Pacha/Amnesia/Privilege in Ibiza. It's in my blood. The whiff of dry ice and the thud of a beatbox and I'm off. Let's say it brings out the excitable side of me. I have been known to dance topless at Gay Pride parties in Sydney, do the splits - by accident - as one heel goes one way and another the other and befriend random people. When I was going through my spiritual phase (the Pray bit of Eat Pray Love) I tried to do shamanic moves to heal the mob of dancers. Or at a Dubai beach party when I tried to recruit a random gay guy as my dancing partner. Not my proudest hour.More... (http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/britchick-paris/why-partying-with-david-a_b_923903.html)
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