From previous experience, it will involve people handing me their coats at the night's start, me putting tickets on them, and then, at the end of the night, throwing them all on the floor and yelling "big summer blowout".

But I think I'm trying to make up for a slight maternal lapse earlier this week. I won't go into details, but it involves a bus accident, my journalistic instincts and my daughter travelling on public transport. Let's just say one of those facts was temporarily forgotten in all the to-do.

However, I'm under strict instructions I'm not allowed to dance - particularly when the Nutbush comes on.

I don't know why she had to issue the directive. She knows I've never been able to master that particular dance, or any of the other novelty dances.

I'm always turning the wrong way, or kneeing people when I should have been turning and clapping. I've actually had to officially give up the Nutbush because a) I'm not big on public humiliation and b) it was costing me too much in ice packs.

But what is with all these novelty dances? Take Gangnam Style for example. A slightly overweight South Korean rapper re-enacts his secret rodeo fantasy and it becomes a worldwide sensation.

And don't get me started on the YMCA or the Time Warp. Who thought up forming letters with your arms or a sexually suggestive dance that includes a pelvic thrust? My M always looks like more like an obese butterfly and my thrust is like a hula hooper with a bad back.

Even the legendary Michael Jackson's Moonwalk is way beyond my capabilities. But if anybody needs their polished floorboards stripped back, then I'm your girl.

And I've drawn a line in the dance floor over The Robot or the Hammer Dance. If I wanted to be an automaton, it'd be R2D2 extendible hands down and if I wanted to look stupid in puffy pants I'd break out my inner I Dream of Jeannie.