Surfing. Good word, brings up images of fit young men, great big waves and improbably shaped beach babes. Please note, at no time do you spot any reference to me and mine in this list.
You are still not associating me with this are you? Nope, neither am I….
Or such was the case until yesterday.
Idgy has been niggling at me for months saying that since we are going to France for a few weeks this summer could she pulleaeeese have a body board so we can leap about like mad things on the Atlantic beach.
She has been so impressed at the kids she saw there last year. Kids throwing themselves at waves, falling off their boards, laughing and having fun.
However in all these surf infused imaginings I have never actually put myself in the picture. Oh no, I am way too old and flabby to be a beach bunny. My days of the black bikini, or God forbid the Pammy red cozzy are long gone. Oh no, I see myself draped over a tastefully coloured beach towel wearing something fetching that keeps all of me in the right place (no, not a burka), chatting to friends and with maybe a little drinkee in hand. At no point in this scenario am I lunging about in the water looking like a drowned rat and clutching a small piece of hardened foam masquerading as a mini surf board.
Why then did I become a complete surf sheep yesterday, and when a crowd of people were snapping up these (admittedly rather cool) body boards at less than a quarter of their normal price, I found myself falling easily into coconversation with them and reaching for 2 (yes you read right, 2!) body boards.
Idgy was thrilled when I took them home. There she was humming 'Hawaii Five O' and adopting the position with ease. Even the ferret was getting in on the act and enjoying a slide on the board and a little tour of the livingroom.
There is no escape now, no hope for me carrying on my sloth like beach habits. No, no, this year the New Me will be lunging for the waves and embracing the surf!
Betcha don't believe me!