Nope, not because of the sparkly glitz, not because of the hype, not because we’re in the umpteenth series.
Let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time I wasn’t disabled. 30 years ago and counting. Once upon a time I wasn’t married. 23 years and counting. Don’t tell Mrs W, but I had other girlfriends last century. Shhh…
Even further back in time, I took time out before university to travel. Time in Czechoslovakia. Ski bumming (French Alps). Holiday and ski repping (French and Swiss Alps, Canary Islands)..
Needless to say, I had a bloody amazing, snogtastic time. And when I finally arrived at Uni (Manchester apparently), I had two things on my mind. Girls and booze. Study? Sod that.
So I joined two societies to cover my needs. Wine Society. Tick for the booze. And ballroom dancing. Correctly calculating I would be in the minority as a male. Tick for the girls. I soon added the Rock n’ Roll Dance Society to further cover off the girls. I was pretty disgraceful. But young!
I got pretty good at the dancing, even representing the Uni in the Lambada of all things. My girlfriend’s espadrille fell off in the semi-final to put paid to that particular honour.
Fast forward a few years and I met and fell instantly in love with my wife. From first kiss to marriage was just 11 months. She loved dancing and partying and I could still hold my own, even though my balance and spatial awareness – sober or not – were starting to fade as MS crept up on me.
Jo has coped wonderfully well with my diagnosis and the progression of my illness. ‘We have MS’, she says. I have found cunning, fun replacements for the various activities I am now deprived of. Wheelchair Rugby, adrenaline nonsensing wherever I can find it.
But sadly there is just no replacement for dancing with my wife. Slow and smoochy, ballroom, or bangin’ 80’s toons with a half glass of wine in my hand. Sigh…
It breaks my heart, and I know it does hers. I have come to terms with so much of my disability, and with my future disease progression. But random, impromptu dancing with the love of my life? I can’t bear that will never happen.
And that extends to sitting down to watch Strictly. It’s just too raw. Meh. Sod Multiple Sclerosis.