Tuesday, 22 February 2011
It's the first day in my week off work and already there's been scandal to report. The BF (that's Best Friend to all the enquiring texts I've been getting!) and I headed out for lunch to our favourite cheese and ham toastie / ice cream combo location and had a good foodfest whilst reading the newspapers. I ignored her comments likening my new reading glasses to those last seen on Nana Mouskouri. My witty riposte was that her greying parting was last seen on a rabies-ridden badger. As we've known each other for over twenty years, it's quite normal for us to swap insults over our increasing age and 'everything going South' status. We then hit the well-worn path to Subway's at Cleveleys for a cappuccino take-out and drive down to the beach. The waterfront was a hive of activity today with numerous cars parked up and full of retired people having a mid-afternoon snooze pointing out towards the sea watching fishermen out capitalising on the bounty of fish swimming towards the shore during the Spring tides We were chattering away and then it happened. The BF looked towards her left at the car next to us (about 20 feet away) and nudged me with a worried look on her face saying something on lines of 'eeuuugghh, look at those two snogging in that steamy car... hang on a minute, are they having sex? OH MY GOD, THEY'RE HAVING SEX'. As much as I didn't want to look I glanced across and was slightly horrified to see not a couple of lusty teenagers, but a couple in advanced years looking all the world like they were getting jiggy with it. This, I have to say was taking place in a public place with the odd dogwalker traipsing past. It was taking place in a Hyundai sports car with very steamed up windows and in the middle of the afternoon. Thinking we had inadvertently stumbled across a new dogging area in our locality, I sheepishly looked around me for famous actors from EastEnders or dogwalkers with video cameras but couldn't see anyone who was giving these two the slightest bit of attention. That's the beauty of Cleveleys I suppose. The general population is over 70 and is either sight or hearing impaired, or drives a mobility scooter. Totally oblivious to afternoon delight it seems.
And then if that wasn't bad enough, the BF then reports 'They're moving positions.. wait... wait.. he's bobbed down. I think they're doing that...Oral highway thing..quick, have a look'. I can't tell you how stunned I was. Stunned indeed for what was allegedly happening 20 feet away from my enjoyment of a cappuccino and oatmeal cookie, but more stunned that the BF knew this phrase. I replied with something like 'The Oral WHAAAAT?' Much to my chagrin, I'm blushing and despite her repeatedly asking me to look to confirm this new and dangerous manoeuvre and ignoring my protestations totally, I just couldn't bring myself to be so openly comfortable with voyeurism. I then asked her how she knew about such things and she just shrugged her shoulders and nonchalantly claimed that's what it's called when it happens in a car. I blame myself for buying her the requested Sex And The City box set a couple of birthdays ago. She's never been the same since.
And as for the loved up wrinklies... I started up the car pretty damn pronto and drove past steadfastly with rigid stare ahead whilst the BF leant across and beeped my horn for good measure. I noticed that she found my panicked reaction very, very funny.
Mental note to self:
1. Add 'Oral Highway' to vocabulary and use sparingly. Definitely not to be used in the company of parents, or during job interviews.
2. Check internet whether Steve Heighway (ex winger at Liverpool FC in the 70's) married a Swedish blonde model called 'Oral'.
3. Review personal opinion that sex does happen when you're over 60.