He turns on a sixpence with a perfect pivot on the balls of his feet, down to all that club gyrating I think, and just walks away. I can hear the especially camp and enticing  Quincy Jones – ‘Soul Bossa Nova’  and I’m left smiling and watching his graceful gait while he shimmies along the corridor on his own personal catwalk. He is one of those colourful people that contributes to my surroundings as that special little ‘knick-knack’ on an otherwise plain mantelpiece. He adds a certain ‘je ne sais quoi’ to my life.

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