I have a personal connection to Bolero. I was 7 on 14 February 1984. I fell to the ground outside a Fish and Chip shop in Bulwell and got a black eye. My dad carried me all the way home on his shoulders across Bulwell Golf Course. When we got home, my mum gave me some ice cubes wrapped in an old tea towel to hold against my eye and switched on the Black and White television. Torvill and Dean were dancing to Bolero. I associate the music with the pain of the fall, the smell of fish and chips and the feeling of watching the world from my Dad’s shoulders. I remember the tears rolling down my cheeks as I listened to the music, and the cold of the ice against my face as I watched the two performers, from our home city, dancing on ice, somewhere far away.