Originally published by The Clifton Courier, February 9, 2022

I recently went to a concert. 

Now, for those of you who have been following this dribble (which, obviously, refers to my column) since the beginning, you might think, “oh geez here we go, we’re in for another vomit story”. 

But I would like to point out that at the time of the aforementioned concert, I was in a healthy, (mostly*) unaltered state. And I would also like to point out that, back when I did get sick at that live music event way back in the day, the friendly festival medic put my affliction down to being under the influence of gastro. 

* It was a long time ago, so I can’t really say for sure how much goon had been consumed prior to the gastro infection…

And, besides, this isn’t one of those Dannielle-gets-a little-carried-away-and-vomits stories. I may well be past that. This is actually me passing down some wisdom I’ve acquired during my many trips around the sun. 

Of course, it’s repeatedly been established that I’m in no position to doll out life advice, but I shan’t let that stop me. 

I was at a sparsely-attended gig with one of my sisters, sober and feeling very much out of practice when it comes to being at a gig. Thanks to the pandemic, I was no longer the concert-going manic pixie dream girl I liked to think I was. And while I’d experienced live music since the outbreak of a certain unnamed virus, I was rusty and a little unfit. 

We hung right back from the small, density-limit-contained crowd, positioning ourselves so there was no one within a five metre radius of us. 

And while this was good for social distancing, it did make us feel a little off. 

Usually, back in The Before Days, you’d be right up in the thick of it at a concert. There would be a dense, sweaty clump of humanity that had a certain energy to it. Everyone fed of each other. The vibe was infectious. You couldn’t really help but dance in those circumstances.

But just the two of us on our own meant we had to be our own hype girls. 

And it felt awkward. 

Thankfully, we knew what to do to get ourselves in the mood and it’s something I feel compelled to share here, because it really is a game changer. 

Some old friends of ours had this thing they’d do in a dance floor or concert setting that never failed to get people moving, laughing and scraping the zest from the lemon of life. 

And it’s remarkably simple. 

All you need to do is place an object on the ground and pretend it’s something kind of sacred, kind of dangerous and extremely powerful. You revere it but, once it’s one the ground, would never, ever touch it. 

I used my over-the-shoulder bag on the night in question, but anything will do. A half-full glass of water. A hat. A discarded thong with a busted strap. Whatever is at hand, really.

Once you have your object, you proceed to artistically jump over and dance around it. 

Maybe you skip over it. Maybe you do a box step over it without your feet coming into contact with it. Maybe you circle around it, repeatedly pointing downwards at it like you’re a member of the Wiggles performing an ancient spell. 

Whatever you choose to do, you do not actually touch the object, but come very, very close to touching it and you make it as dramatic and silly as possible. You might start out small and restrained with your movements, but eventually you get sucked in. You loosen up.  You get loose then you get lewse and then you lose yourself to the rhythm. 

I remember one time, back when Big Day Out was still a thing, we deployed this method in rave-like corner of the festival. It started off with just the three of us and we were having so much fun, other people started joining in. It ended up growing so big that, for a second there, it felt like we’d created a new religious cult. 

It works at festivals and weddings and, just putting it out there, would probably go off at my wake. It absolutely worked in this case. As soon as I put my bag down, my sister knew that We Were On. 

And within about 23 seconds, we were loose, limber and very hyped up for the main act to come on. 

So if ever you find yourself wanting to dance, but not quite in the right frame of mind to do so, you know what to do. Trust me. It works.