Dear Tina Charles
In my younger day, much like my friend Jona Lewie, I could not stand washing up and would do anything to get out of it as soon as I heard the taps going. My main excuse was planting seeds in the garden; I was ''on my feet to dig it'' thus did indeed ''stay at home and get down'', long before Jean could lure me into the kitchen.
It would seem that a very similar scenario is occuring between you and your ‘baby’, whose need, love and compulsion to dance seems to be acting as a device of distraction, leaving you no ‘us time’ and completely disregarding your love to love. In fact, these extended sessions of physical activity, via dancing the night away and spinning you like a top until you’re having to ask him to stop, arguably serve only to make you very dizzy (probably to the approval of Liquid Gold), out of puff, and in no fit state for ‘romance’.
One feels, Ms. Charles, that the only way he can give your love a chance (yes yes yes, oh) would be to resolutely resist going downtown or indeed wandering into any supermarkets, restaurants or lifts that play piped ‘’muzak’’after 6pm
I sincerely hope that you understand ‘’what I'm tryin' to say’’.
Derek Philpott (and Son)