I’ve been giving my Nikes a major work-out this week.
Lots of relaxing walks with friends have cleared my head after getting totally over-hyped from spending a frenetic five days as acting news editor of Kidspot.
I love combining lots of loud laughter with exercise.
I was so desperate to get moving on Tuesday night that I convinced a friend to walk at night in the drizzle.
As we were tackling a particularly brutal hill a white Porsche pulled up beside us and two young lads offered us a lift.
“Thanks!” I trilled. “But we’re doing this for fun!”
I expect they were quite relieved. Driving up behind us in the dark they may have thought we were cute young things they could “pick up” in both senses of the words.
They might not have been quite so keen when they realised we were soggy, post-40-year-old women … me closer to 50.
When I told another friend about it yesterday she said it wasn’t too bad to be mistaken for a twentysomething from behind.
I have to admit I was a bit chuffed. Two young blokes in a Porsche tried to pick us up!!
It gave me a flashback to when my ex had long, Prince Valiant-style hair. He was driving my girly yellow Maza 121 jellybean car and waiting at the lights to turn into Park Street from Pitt Street in the city.
A car pulled up beside him and the bloke in the passenger seat leaned out the window and said: “Gidday gorgeous.”
My ex swivelled his head and said: “Who are you calling gorgeous?”
The bloke almost had a heart attack …. the look on his face! It was priceless.
Of course, being a cool, macho type, the first panicked thing he did was turn and check if his mate who was driving had seen him call another man “gorgeous.”
And off my ex and I cackled into the Park Street sunset …
Ever made a mistake like that?
Song of the day: Split Enz “That was my mistake”