Fly me to the moon,
and let me play among the stars.
Let me see what spring is like,
on Jupiter and Mars.

On Presentation Night six, seven years ago, on my last official function at high school, I sang Fly me to the moon with the school orchestra. Two lines into the song, my mind became a blank and I was reduced to humming the tune into the microphone, with the violins making horrible screeching noises behind me.

Now, I sing it softly to myself in pensive moments and ignore Jason when he laughs at my ad-libs, "And you yell at me because of my vibrato! You're putting extra notes where it's not wanted!"

What is it like? Spring, on Jupiter and Mars, I mean. Is it warm and pink, or is it blowsy and wet with wind?

My feet won't be still. Dance with me.