Last Friday was not normal.

I’d pre-recorded my radio show, Malia was in town and we had promised her we would go to Move It for the day to watch her perform.

She had to be there earlier than us so we let her go while we got our prayers, journaling and Yoga-ing done.  We caught the train and made our customary journey into Victoria, from whence we start all our adventures.

Destination, High Street Kensington. A short distance from Olympia, twelve minutes on foot to be precise.

In the lobby we were jostled and none of the officials could speak English or knew what to do with our electronically generated tickets.

Exasperated by the endless run around I finally told a young man to scan the bar code and be done with it.

I thwarted his attempt to keep my tickets and hubs and I swept into the vibrating, thunderous cavern that was Move It for the weekend.

The bones in my head started to vibrate, just my kind of place.

I thought of my sticky mat.

Malia was at the main stage and we stood with her and her co-dancers, mouthing comments to each other unable to compete with the volume.  They were made-up to the nines and had their hair in the mandatory French pleat, a Tiffany trademark.

They went backstage and hubs and I staked a place at the front rail to wait for the action.

My youngest had reluctantly given me her iPhone to record her performance.  Not that she didn’t trust me with her phone she had wanted me to enjoy the performance without having to view it through a 6 x 3 inch screen.  However, this mum is an historian and there was no-one else for the job.

When her company exploded onto the stage I pressed record and brushed the tears from my face while my daughter danced as if no-one was watching in front of several thousand people jostling for positions behind me.

Afterwards we took a quick thirty minute break for a picnic lunch on a concrete floor upstairs.

We strolled the booths for two hours while she took her place on stand representing her college.

The pounding music went right through me.

We visited and photographed Malia while she schmoozed and then were told we had to wait another hour!

At last we left, exhausted, to track down a Starbucks.

Nothing like a shot of caffeine to calm the nerves and bring me back to Friday!