Some are born great, some have greatness thrust upon them and others just go out and grab it when the opportunity presents itself, if only to amuse their children.
I fell into the latter category last night when I took the Best Party Dancer Award (Sad Parents Section) on night two of our short caravan holiday here in Northumberland. (Our hosts thought it would be funny to call me "Keith," Barry White not being amusing enough).
In truth, there was great pressure on me to perform as a means of restoring family honour.
Charlotte had earlier been eliminated from her quest to retain her crown from Monday evening.
Then Jamie lost an arm-wrestling contest to a girlie.
The shame of it. So it was all down to me.
To be fair, the organisers did seek to give me an advantage by choosing "I'll Tell My Ma" as the all-important party tune. However, whilst I clearly remember learning to sing that particular Irish classic as a pupil at Macosquin Primary School, Mrs Thompson refrained from teaching us any accompanying moves.
It was therefore improvisation all the way.
And I nailed it.
Hopefully it will be Vanessa's turn this evening.