It is a truth universally acknowledged that shit happens...
Posters fall down, and people get 'leg hernias' on their birthdays.
Chocolate brownie cake gets smeared on carpets, and violet creams get devoured after cider with almost disastrous consequences.
Doors to poetry bars are locked, and light bulbs nearly get sat on.
The BNP, Ukip and Christian Party are all front runners in local elections, and keys fail to cooperate.
And that is barely the tip of the iceberg.
HOWEVER, tips of icebergs can also be cherries on the top. Can they not? Work with me on this one...
As a very wise amour of mine repeatedly (and ever so smugly) whispers through an amused half-smile, 'It is all part of the Comedy of Life'.
Pink party frocks can be enjoyed, and bedrooms can be the glamorous make-up boudoirs of backstage theatres.
A casual Carlos Acosta can be spotted in the street, and free blow-up inflatables can cushion numb bums in twilit Trafalgar Square.
Jokes can be made publicly about the medium of dance, and purple glitter curtains can bedeck bars booked for private soirees.
Undone bow ties can grace slender necks, and lace can be layered to form a special, special garment.
Hampstead Heath can be buttercup brightness, or wine-drenched sunset. Rugs and mugs can always be conjured, and friends will always be friends...
And, if in doubt, at an all time low, or disillusioned with the world of dancecrobatics, one can always cut to an 80's dance montage... Fact.