Keep on dancing…

Yes, Whisky, Tango, Foxtrot. WTF? WTF? What the fuck?

I don’t dance any more although I use to love it. I didn’t do the Tango (not even in Paris) or the Foxtrot (I left that to early Genesis, the group not the biblical stuff) but the Whisky I can understand. These days the whisky, or similar liquids, are keeping me afloat in a world of situations where Whisky, Tango, Foxtrot has become my default response.

Of course when I did dance it was disco and I was okay at it (sweaty, but okay) even managing a spin or two and winning a few T shirts along the way. These days I still do the same moves (on my own in front of the television) but sadly it looks and feels like ‘Dad Dancing’ and I don’t dare to try a back-flip.

Anyway – What the Fuck? What the Fuck indeed.

As I get increasingly older (I’m not far off my sixtieth year) my attitude becomes increasingly WTF. I’m all about dismissing the small stuff so that I can concentrate on the big stuff. The big stuff is hard to scream WTF at but I give it a good go and usually manage it. Anyway what else is to be done?

I think that I'll just keep on drinking and dancing - WTF!