Dancing with Rufus 22 June 2007
Watching Rufus Wainwright at Glastonbury on the television, Mrs Monk felt the need to dance, and after more than two glasses of wine she insisted that I joined her.
“No, darling”, I said, “But please feel free to dance for me, for it will be moving, ....perhaps literally ....”
“Dance for me darling,”, I said, “for you dance like Najinsky”,
I was not sure of who or what I was comparing her to so I attempted to cover my tracks.
“Not the horse of course but the ballerina.”, I explained, but still not sure of my facts.
The wine had her moving and shimmying and laughing nonetheless in a virtual Glastonbury purple haze, but she continued to complain.
“You never take me dancing,” she said, “You never take me to the 100 club.”
“If I take you there,” I said, “I might just leave you there.”
She laughed out loud and her belly ached and danced on some more, until Martha joined Rufus on stage which prompted her to stop dancing forthwith. She is not keen on Martha Wainwright. She wants Rufus for herself.