I am proud to say that I have scaled new heights of insanity and plunged greater depths of Mad Hatterness than ever before. A challenge for one such as I to be sure, but by Zeus I've gone and managed it.

In the early hours of the morning, unnaturally wide awake after a mere smattering of sleep (my liver doth protest too much at the wine of russet hue, methinks), I could be discovered sprawled within the sheets of my bed listeneing to Prokofiev's 'Dance of the Knights' from the ballet Romeo and Juliet on my electric-pink i-pod at full blast. Complete with flamboyant arm gestures worthy of the most passionate of conductors. And enthusiastic (though, admittedly, silent) singing along to the rousing chords that herald the descent of feuding Montagues and Capulets. It is as if the fires of hell open for the length of a track, apocolypse is upon me in vast swathes of smoke and brimstone, I am Juliet ready to die for love, my heart about to burst through my chest, and... then I press stop and settle down to sweet dreams of men in tights.

By the way, silent singing along consists of very intense mouth miming, with gob wide open, and a great deal of imagination. That's for those of you who have never given silent singing to classical ballet music a go. Which everyone should. Preferably in bed. At 3am. Does wonders for the soul, believe me...