When I am in the privacy of my bedroom, I pretend I am a professional ballet dancer and prance around like a moron. Unfortunately, my dancing prowess does not extend past bedroom ballet or drunken club boogying so I must admit that I have no knowledge of dancing jargon. However, I can appreciate talent. And my God, 2Faced Dance Company is talented. CONTINUE READING THIS POST >
When I think ‘Italian’, I visualise an oversized giant of a man squeezed into an unnecessarily tight tux singing incomprehensible opera, the Colosseum, my scary (Italian) driving instructor who once hit me with a pencil for pressing the accelerator when I should have been pressing the brake and finally, munching on dough balls at Pizza Express.