We’ve all had a Flashdance moment.

It’s that fleeting daydream when we imagine ourselves as someone amazing, like a rock’n’roll icon, an Olympic gold medalist or an Oscar-winning actor.

For me, it’s often a best-selling author whose book has been snapped up for a movie.

But my main Flashdance moment is literally that – I am Jennifer Beals leaping around a dance studio in a leotard, to Irene Cara’s Eighties classic.

I love watching dance shows, and am full of admiration for dancers. Ever since I decided, aged about five, after a handful of ballet lessons, that I was never going to make it as a prima ballerina, I have lived vicariously through dancers.

Ballet, tap, street, swing, salsa, ballroom – I love it all. If I could live my life again, I’d learn to dance until my feet bled.

I have occasionally had a go. I once took up tap dancing with my mum, which was like something out of a poor sitcom.

And a couple of years ago I tried a Bollywood dance class, naively thinking it just involve a few moves, the ‘lightbulb screw’ and so on. We ended up creating an entire dance routine, which felt like being in a musical and left me exhausted.

But something struck a chord and I fell in love with Bollywood and its intricate moves, rich storytelling, vibrant costumes and joyful drum beats.

On Sunday evening I watched Bollywood Carmen performed in Bradford’s City Park during its simultaneous TV broadcast. With an hour to go before the start, choreographer Honey Kalaria appeared on stage and told us, the audience, that we were going to be part of a Bollywood dance routine.

I have to admit my heart sank a little. I was there to cover it for work, notepad in hand, and wasn’t up for audience participation. How on earth could I dance Bollywood-style in public without consuming any wine first?

But as Honey took the crowd through a series of moves, I realised that everyone around me was throwing their arms into the air, clapping in unison and lunging to the left and right.

Excitement was building, as the clock ticked towards the live broadcast, and it’s practically impossible to stay still while Jai Ho is being blasted into the air, so I threw caution to the wind – or at least shoved my notepad in my bag – and joined in.

It was great fun to be part of a Bollywood dance live on telly. Of course, in my Flashdance moment I’m now Preeya Kalidas in a red dress, wowing the nation with my extraordinary lightbulb screw moves...