A while back we were out walking and passed by a gentrified country pub round about lunch time. As we waited for everyone to catch up, I watched a new Range Rover pull up on the other side of the road. A youngish man climbed out with a small child and both set off across the road to the pub.
A few seconds later a young woman with long, bottle-blonde hair, an out of season tan and skin-tight jeans tottered after them in high heels.
Was it Mummy? Or was it Daddy’s trophy tart?
It was a most unkind and uncharitable thought which I'm a little ashamed of, but modern life tends to pop them into my mind like snooker balls slammed into the mental pocket. She may have had a heart of gold and a PhD in nuclear physics for all I know.
She certainly lacked poise though. Bound to turn heads in that particular pub - but not to her advantage. My unkind thought would not have been the last that day and possibly not the unkindest.
Oh dear, I'm not mellowing with age though.