Seducing Seniors Near You!
Well, today has been lively.
Sometimes this Universe is random and cruel. Sometimes it strikes down good people with unfair diseases or unjust penalty payments. Sometimes it deals out poo and generic woe.
But sometimes there is a guiding light there, a source of love and support. Sometimes this is in the form of some of the best friends a woman could have. Sometimes it is an Angel leaning over to whisper some pertinent bit of wisdom in your ear. Sometimes the Angel says: "Hang in there. Let go. Forgive. Tomorrow will be better." and occasionally the Angel says: "When you go to work, wear trainers."
Boy was I glad that I listened today,because not an hour after getting to work my son's carer called to say that he had an unexplainable rash on his leg and btw he seems to be acting funny. So I legged it there from work, and then legged it to a GP (because little motivates doctors so much as the magic sentence : 'My baby has a strange rash') and then after rash turned out to be benign allergic reaction to a Mysterious Substance I legged it back home with the boy and then legged it off to work meetings.
One might think that this was sufficient excitement for one day, but one would be wrong. In fact one might think that one's encounters with old folk on public transport couldn't get much more bizarre than getting punched by a little old lady on the 46 a few years ago, but one would be wrong there also.
For verily, verily as I stood at the busstop waiting for the 31 to show up I was cornered by a tiny stuttering OAP who looked embarassed and shifty and asked me would I keep a secret and then asked me: "Would you do me a big favour and come to my flat once, maybe twice a week and uhm, let me uhm, let me .... play you some records?"
If I have ever maybe disparged the English habit of not meeting the eye of people on transport or on the street in order to avoid the possibility of having to make conversationw ith them, then I consider myself a convert for life now.
Sometimes this Universe is random and cruel. Sometimes it strikes down good people with unfair diseases or unjust penalty payments. Sometimes it deals out poo and generic woe.
But sometimes there is a guiding light there, a source of love and support. Sometimes this is in the form of some of the best friends a woman could have. Sometimes it is an Angel leaning over to whisper some pertinent bit of wisdom in your ear. Sometimes the Angel says: "Hang in there. Let go. Forgive. Tomorrow will be better." and occasionally the Angel says: "When you go to work, wear trainers."
Boy was I glad that I listened today,because not an hour after getting to work my son's carer called to say that he had an unexplainable rash on his leg and btw he seems to be acting funny. So I legged it there from work, and then legged it to a GP (because little motivates doctors so much as the magic sentence : 'My baby has a strange rash') and then after rash turned out to be benign allergic reaction to a Mysterious Substance I legged it back home with the boy and then legged it off to work meetings.
One might think that this was sufficient excitement for one day, but one would be wrong. In fact one might think that one's encounters with old folk on public transport couldn't get much more bizarre than getting punched by a little old lady on the 46 a few years ago, but one would be wrong there also.
For verily, verily as I stood at the busstop waiting for the 31 to show up I was cornered by a tiny stuttering OAP who looked embarassed and shifty and asked me would I keep a secret and then asked me: "Would you do me a big favour and come to my flat once, maybe twice a week and uhm, let me uhm, let me .... play you some records?"
If I have ever maybe disparged the English habit of not meeting the eye of people on transport or on the street in order to avoid the possibility of having to make conversationw ith them, then I consider myself a convert for life now.