Everyone is beautiful at the ballet.....

That song is running through my head at the moment (and only for the chorus of it, not the sad story verses).

Once upon a time, when I was a little girl, I loved the ballet. My sister started lessons and I was desperate to join in, even though the teacher wouldn't take anyone under 4 or 5 I think (Mum will correct me). I danced in the corner until the teacher let me join in properly at age 3.

From then on I was obsessed. I had all the ballet books, danced as often as I could and I was good. I was en pointe almost at 7 (well we were in Russia and that was normal there!). I dreamed of dancing at the Bolshoi and took classes with the junior company.

Then I got osteomyelitis in my left ankle. We were in Moscow and no one knew what it was for ages. I was eventually flown out emergency to London and was in hospital for a long time, learning how to walk again and very very ill. I was also very angry and hurting and quite obnoxious to be with (God, how I understand now how AWFUL this must have been for mum who had come with me, leaving Dad and Kirsti in Moscow - sorry Mum...).

Anyway - the doctor said one day to his colleagues "we have to get this little girl better, she's a dancer". And I said through gritted teeth "I WILL NEVER DANCE AGAIN"

And I never did.

Until tonight.

I went with my lovely friend Hannah to the London Theatre School which happens to be just round the corner. And they do adult ballet classes. And Hannah has been going for a year and loves it so I decided to try it.

It was wierd. I was so nervous. And excited. And there I was again, in a studio with a barre. And we began - there were only three others in the class, all of whom had been going for nearly a year. And we did some basic warm ups and barre work. And the teacher asked me if I was sure I hadn't danced since I was 7.....and I loved it. I absolutely loved it. I'm not flexible obviously - and I'm not fit. And my left ankle - where I had the osteo - isn't strong and mobile anymore and I can't full pointe with it.

But I remembered. My arms naturally assumed positions, and my feet followed. I felt graceful! All 17 stone of me! And I felt like I was good at it. And I almost wanted to cry.

In a way I saved myself heartache by stopping ballet at 7. I would have wanted to go all the way and even if I never got heavy, I would have been too tall and would have had my dreams dashed. I was a stubborn little kid. And I stuck to my guns. But I'm really happy that I danced tonight. And I was GOOD!! And I am so indescribably warm and fuzzy and happy inside now. And on the brink of tears.

My childhood love is re-awakened. I've still watched a lot of ballet over the years (and had Moxie and Rob SERIOUSLY take the piss out of me for it). And deep down inside I'd like to be Darcey Bussell.

But for now, I'm going to go sew elastic on my new ballet slippers. And dance every Tuesday night in a little studio in Catford. And love it all over again.