It’s the summer of 1995 and I am in Manchester, in a nightclub dancing to Pulp’s Common People. I’m 24, and as I sing along to Jarvis Cocker’s lyrics I feel the ecstatic exhilaration that only music and dancing can bring.
Dancing was not welcomed when I was growing up — it was associated with pleasure, freedom, sex and a loss of control and these were all things that my parents considered dangerous and suspect. I was never allowed to attend any school discos and I did not step inside a nightclub until I had left for university and was hundreds of miles from home.
