David Robbins: We've turned back the clock to a time before feminism
I was just about to change channels when I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. My daughter was staring at the TV in a sort of trance, like the kid in the Steven Spielberg-scripted chiller Poltergeist.
I had been missing my weekly fix of Strictly Come Dancing and, longing for sequins, a glitterball and some cheesy glamour, I had switched on Dancing on Ice.
My need was all the greater because my weekly ballroom dancing lessons with Iverna had broken up over the Christmas, and I hadn't practised my lumpen rugby player's foxtrot in ages.