Gah. Dance.
If we count from Sunday, I will have danced four times this week. Sunday classes, plus extra practise from about 7-8, Tuesday at Thamesmead, Wednesday at St Paul's and Thursday at Magna Carta, if I go, which I might.
I've been lying awake now just thinking how worried I am I might set a foot wrong at the Youth Awards when they come up as I'm at the front for a lot of the set, and precise counts and movement are required from me!
Right now I'm just needing as much feeling of dance that I can possibly get so I don't fuck up on the day. A whole 6 different songs is daunting.
It makes me mad to have been ill the Sunday before last, meaning I missed three hours of vital choreography.
Well I'm not happy about it.
At this time its a case of pulling it all together. Outwardly, I'm confident about it. Inside I'm shitting it.
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