If I could be anybody for a day, right now I’d be dogpossum. Actually, I’d want two days as her. Last Saturday and Sunday. And then I’d try to convince the genie to give me a couple of days either side of that as well. And then I’d be myself again so that I could catch up on my sleep.
Oh, look, I am myself, with proofreading to do.
You don’t want to be me last Saturday. That was the day I had to deal with stroppy drunks coming in off the street, fucked up young men who decided to threaten me (I have NEVER seen that sort of thing at a dance event before), arsehole co-organisers humiliating me in public because they can’t hack the stress…
Be me last Friday or Thursday and then on Sunday. They were the good days. The best bit was learning to hustle on Sunday night. Hustle = 70s disco partner dancing. That was the BEST. And being taught by an American body builder (female) and Swiss dance champion (male) made it even better: there’s nothing more bizarre than trying to fit a 3/4 timed dance step into a 4/4 time song.