Walking home from school this morning I found myself stuck behind a lady with striking blond hair and her friend. They were meandering along the pavement side by side, arm in arm and deep in conversation.
Thinking it was probably not polite to listen into their conversation; I hesitated for a few moments then listened into their conversation. As you do.
It transpired that they were talking about men. Or more specifically, the blond woman’s new relationship.
The conversation went a little like this: (I’m calling the blond lady Alice and her friend Jane, just because).
Jane: So do your family know about your new man?
Alice: Not yet. I’m keeping him all to myself for a little while longer.
Jane: Good for you. When are you next seeing him?
Alice: On Friday. He’s taking me away for the weekend.
Jane: Alice, I hope you are behaving yourself.
Alice: Oh I am Jane. He treats me so well. And do you know something; I think he is The One.
Jane: I’m thrilled for you Alice.
And I am thrilled for her too. For Alice, with the striking blond hair and, I noticed as I eventually managed to get past them, bright red lipstick, was at least seventy-five years old.
She looked fabulous with a twinkle in her eye and a spring in her step.
Proof there is hope for all of us. Alice would say never give up searching for that perfect relationship; you’re never too old and it’s never too late.
I’d like to adopt Alice and take her home with me, but something tells me I’d probably cramp her style.