I like to dance; I hate dance.

Sometimes you have an experience which enables you to remember why exactly you hate something that you hate.

So it was last night, when the monthly fun at the H@rley turned into a shite dance disco and my ears were populated by the ugly rhythms of house music. We stuck around for a while, hoping the offensive DJs would be replaced by people who like music; but the longer you stay, the longer you have to stay ("we've stayed this long - it's got to get better soon, surely?"), and the more miserable you become.

It really annoyed me. Weekends are precious and I don't want to waste time and energy amongst a group of people who would probably dance to the noises of a decrepit central heating system if it was loud enough.

Couldn't it have been advertised as a dance special? Then I wouldn't have bothered, could have got up bright and early today and felt productive. Instead I'm grumpy and hungover from having to drink Grolsch and it's almost 1.30pm and I'm not dressed yet.

I look forward to next month when normal service will be resumed.