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Trepid Archives

Exciteable descriptions of a new life living in "The Best Place on Earth". The new template is more basic, more classy, tidier... so totally not me! 

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Monday, July 11, 2005

10:34 a.m. - Did you just see what I just saw?

In June 2003 I went to my first girls-only hen night. I was part-conspirator, having organized a surprise Ann Summers party at the bride’s house. Her idea was to go ice skating – her sister and I had other plans (incase you’re wondering, yes that’s where the picture of me in underwear and a gorilla suit came from).

At the party I bought a two piece swim suit which looked good in the catalogue but once I received it, I realised I wouldn’t dare wear it anywhere other than in private. It’s beige, has a halterneck top, kept closed by leather laces at the front. The bottoms are hot pants with similar leather lacing down the side. The leather laces are decorated with beads on the ends. It’s very amazon woman (which I suppose I am) but I’m just not hot enough to wear it in public. Sorry.

I did intend to return it, not having a need to wear a swimsuit in private, but with the move to Canada in full-swing at the time, it never happened and the bottoms and top got separated and stored in boxes for some time – until Friday.

On Friday, I couldn’t find the old green cozy – the one with the threadbare ass and the failing stitching - so I decided to wear the amazon woman outfit into the hot tub for a Friday night soalk.

As we wallowed and bubbled in the fizzy water we could hear a helicopter flying close, so close. It’s not an unusual thing to hear a helicopter here. It took us a while to get used to it. Where we came from in England, the sound of a chopper was usually the police helicopter following another stolen vehicle, another escaping convict, another drug dealer. Here though, they have a crop of cherries which tend to explode when they get rained on. Hence, after every heavy rainstorm, there’s the sound of helicopter blades cutting the damp air – blow drying the cherries with the down-draft! Yes, you heard me. The crop IS worth a lot more money than a helicopter ride so I guess it can’t be too extravagant a luxury.

This particular helicopter seemed to be upto something different though. Mainly, it sounded like it was hovering over our neighbours place. All a bit intriguing and enough to make an inquisitive young woman stand up in her hot tub to take a look over her house roof too see what’s up.

Unfortunately the pilot had, at that moment just started flying our way, past the house and just as Hubby pointed out that I was probably looking pretty naked in my beige swimsuit with my beige (not totally bronze yet) skin.

Sure enough the rude little pilot, on seeing me, banked hard left, dodging the odd pinetree and did another pass just to check me out.

Ack Ackackack. At 32 I’m still turning heads – and tail rudders.

Anonymous franchini said...

How nice to know that you can make a man lose control of his chopper. I should hold on to that cozzie if I were you.  

Anonymous Silver Lining said...

What she said!! I need to a cozzie like that...  

Blogger Andrea said...

I'll write the stories ladies, you provide the lines...  

Anonymous sarcastrix said...

At age 32 and a (Canadian) size 3, I'm causing men to ask if I know whether I'm having a boy or a girl!  

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