I woke up this morning and realised that even my bed now has a bit of Strictly about it. There’s an orange shroud displaying exactly the position I slept in the night before, thanks to multiple layers of fake tan, and my pillows are flecked with glitter!
That’s when you know that you’ve been Strictly’d. So, now we’re a few weeks into this sparkly journey, it’s time to take stock.
Can I dance? Well, on Mondays and Tuesdays, when we start a new routine, it’s definitely a no! When James taught me the basic rumba walk, and asked me to demonstrate it, he keeled over with laughter. “How on earth can you make it look that bad,” he asked when he eventually composed himself.
I agree, how can I make what is essentially a “walk” look so terrible? I also can’t isolate one part of my body from another, which is essential to Latin dance, but how normal is moving your ribcage in one direction while rotating your hip in another?
I was practising this move in the queue for the cashpoint and got some funny looks, proving that it probably isn’t.
By Wednesday I’m usually starting to improve, which is down to James’s patience, but come Friday, it falls apart spectacularly.
Looking back at the journey so far, there’s one constant theme: fear! Everybody’s nervous, but Robbie Savage and I seem to be the worst, and it is in our honour that the show has been renamed by the celebrities Sickly Come Dancing.
They’ve tried to help: Lulu gave me an herbal spray, Rory suggested a psychologist, Russell lent me his “positive” pebble and Nancy offered a cheeky swig of champagne.
I’m now trying deep breathing. I just need to remember not do it at the cashpoint while I’m practising moving my ribcage and rotating my hip. That could look very weird!