I grew up as a ballet dancer. One of my first memories was at age 3, when I found myself in a chilly brown and grey building in the outskirts of London sitting on the floor with my legs stretched out in front of me. I vividly remember the smell of lycra, as 12 of us sat in a circle wearing a pale blue leotard, white tights and ballet shoes saying good toes (as we pointed our toes) and naughty toes (as we flexed our feet).