Feeling of euphoria dominating that room

That exasperating space of leftover domestics, lust verging on predatory
Unwashed, unclipped, orange tinged fingertips scooping up the dregs of Asda's smart price nuts

I was in my element, masking my child in me
My hormonal fireworks had gone into this moment.

I had made it.

I was 14 and a pub singer.

My family beamed, my Dad unrecognisable
The room roared, happy feet stomped and energetic hands clapped; erupting into our very own earthquake

I took a sneaky mouthful of my concealed pint, covering my modesty in my must look 18 dress

The rockers rocked
The lovers kissed
Eighties fans shook their hips
My father missed... it

The smoke was as thick as **** the *****
It danced in a flurried daze with our quickened breath, singing 'Tubthumping'

If I could have bottled that, I would take a sniff of that smelling salt to bring me round any day