There's Life and Aspiration Yet.

Judging by my depressingly low energy levels at the moment, I strongly suspect that I’m suffering a recurrence of the old chronic fatigue problem. But here’s the odd thing. As soon as I open the scotch bottle and load some Shakira from YouTube, I find myself dancing like a 20-year-old (well, almost…)

I think this might be the universe’s way of preparing me for a not-too-distant future when I shall be incarcerated in some dingy care home watching glitzy lunchtime game shows and endless re-runs of the Jeremy Kyle Show. The only antidote to this hellish predicament will be to get the boom box out, insert a Shakira CD and do my stuff. And then I shall be able to luxuriate in the gummy grins of grizzled old ladies while watching the faux leather seat cushions getting wetter and wetter. (Any takers for smuggling the whisky in?)