This is to be my last Big Night Out in London. I have prepared accordingly and dressed the part, wearing a black mini-dress, plenty of eyeliner, and a faux fur coat (that nappy-yet-magical Traveling Coat we procured on our very first night out in the city). Soon, we’ll pop over to the shop to buy some wine, which we will then consume in our kitchen—amidst dirty dishes and discarded magazines—before catching the train to Islington. We will dance with loose shoulders and shout to be heard over the live rock bands. Our shoes will become covered in that telltale “disco dust”. And then, when our bodies start to slump and our minds have become like soggy potatoes, it will be time to take the night bus home. In darkness, we’ll ghost through the streets of London in the ragtag company of rascals, divas, and bums.

It is a scene from a movie or play that I have rehearsed and performed many times. They say true actors never tire of their stage.