Loud speaker

People who have conversations on speaker phone in public places are not my favourite.

I was rolling my eyes about a bloke doing it in a bar on Friday night when things took an eyebrow-raising turn.

Well, things had already taken an initial eyebrow-raising turn as we walked down to the bar. We had the doggos with us and an elderly woman standing outside her house started delightedly patting them.

She was particularly enamoured with Bilbo and asked what his name was.

Her face froze when DD told her … we suspect because she thought he said “Dildo”.

“Bil-Bo, Bil-Bo Baggins” DD hastily repeated after seeing the horrified expression on her face.

Her face unfroze and delighted patting recommenced.

Then we arrived at the bar and settled into a table near a middle-aged bloke talking to a woman on speaker phone.

He wanted her to go over to his place, but she was a single mum looking after four kids.

She begged him to come over to her place instead because she was “so horny”.

That’s when my eyebrows hit my hairline.

And they stayed there as she discussed moisture levels in a certain, intimate part of her anatomy.

On speaker phone. In a bar. As we were sipping our cocktails.

The bloke didn’t scramble to take his phone off speaker. He carried on his loud, X-rated and very public conversation.

The poor, horny single mum had no idea she was expressing her needs to a wide audience.

I’m still not quite sure how those needs were going to be fulfilled by the bloke at 5.30pm while she was at home with four kids.

He seemed equally unsure, said his loud goodbyes and ambled off down the street to get a takeaway pizza. He walked past us with it a few minutes later, on the phone again, probably seeking a shag with someone less parentally encumbered.

Slice of life.

The rest of my weekend was much more sedate.

DD and I were missing cruising, so we caught a ferry from Palm Beach to Ettalong and back, then settled into Barrenjoey House for a late lunch, followed by a swim.

On Saturday I set the alarm for sunrise and we headed to Avalon headland with a couple of folding chairs and the dogs. Dolphins frolicked in the surf as we sipped our coffees.

Gorgeous!

The waves were too wild at my favourite beach, Bilgola, so DD took me to North Avalon for a dip before I drove up to Newcastle to visit my dad in hospital and have lunch with my mum for her birthday.

Then it was back down the highway for some comedy – Sara Pascoe at the Enmore Theatre.

We’d been planning on having a drink at a bar beforehand, but Enmore is a freaking nightmare for parking and we ended up driving around in circles instead. Half the audience made the same mistake and trailed in after the lights had dimmed for the show.

We will be catching the train if we ever brave Enmore Theatre again.

The rain gouted down as DD drove home and I almost had heart failure on the Harbour Bridge when DD chose the death lane – the one in the middle where people occasionally collide head on.

My stress levels went up a notch when the green tick for our lane suddenly changed to a red cross in the torrential conditions and my life started flashing before my eyes.

But we survived.

The weather was so miserable that I suggested a soothing roast dinner was in order at DD’s on Sunday night. I offered to bring a slow-cooked lamb shoulder, but he’s a leg man – weird – so I left him in charge of preparing the meal I’d proposed.

And now it’s Monday and a regular five-day working week lies ahead of me. I’m not match fit after all the public holidays … are you?

Song of the day: Berlin “Sex”