My mind does not retain what year it was, but it retains the smell of Biddy McGraw’s flat top before I hit it with ice and club soda to remove the stuck-on burger grease. I don’t remember the date, but I remember the smell of Dawn and water, the only thing you need to clean a kitchen in my humble opinion. I remember closing time, where the cling film comes out…. and so does the dancing.
After a monster shift at a pub, you still have to have enough energy to clean up. Drue and I always accomplished this through music, and we had a habit of changing “Doctor Jones” to “Martha Jones” as we were (and are) utterly obsessed with all things Doctor Who.
So now, I hear that song and I instantly want to dance. I instantly want to feel the rhythm of a body that has been overextended in too many ways and has to keep going……
Get up now.
Stories That Are All True 