I cried twice during Dirty Dancing at the Festival Theatre this week.

Not because it's an especially sad story but because the audience were all (shit-faced, maskless and) having a ball. Whooping at the handsomeness of Johnny. Thrilled when Baby rose above her adored father's blinkered wishes. Leaping to their feet at the curtain call singalong megamix and even dancing along to the wonderful live brass trio on stage for most of it. 

Mother was my guest for the night and looked on through it all bemused.