ah... should i be flattered?

It was a beautiful sunny day today, one of the few sunny days we have experienced in Tasmania this Claytons summer. It's been so bad I've given up on warm days altogether, and dress in long sleeve t-shirts no matter the weather, so today's warm weather rather caught me by surprise. Of course, warmth is relative - we barely made it over 21*C (70*F) but, you know, it was hot for us. Add to that the severe shortage of ozone over this part of the globe, resulting in sunburn in under 10 minutes, and one soon feels hot and bothered no matter the temperature.

So there I was, walking down the street feeling distinctly sweaty and weighted down by unnecessary layers of too-hot clothing, trying to enjoy the rays of sun but not quite getting there, when I walked past a bunch of blokes lounging around the outdoor tables of a local bar. They were young jocks, straggly hair poking out every which way, ridiculous candy framed plastic sunglasses perched on sunburnt noses, chests puffed out with ego as their bare skin fairly sizzled under the UV laden sun, pushing back in their seats as they ogled anything passing by in a skirt. A wave of revulsion pulsed through me and I positively refused to offer even a hint of noticing them.

I was almost past the group before I registered just what they were up to. 'Two out of ten' one of them said loudly enough for his words to carry not only to his group but also the skirted ones passing by on the adjoining footpath. Two out of ten? Two out of ten?? What was this, a game? Checking out the 'meat' as it travelled by them and offering a score? P.lease! 'Bogan' flashed through my mind... those boys rest firmly at the bottom of any social scale I could ever hope to construct. (Ah, maybe Robert Mugabe would be lower...)

It was at that point I had to remind myself how old I am. Actually I constantly have to remind myself and everyone else how old I am. I'm even contemplating drawing a few wrinkles around the eyes just to garner a little respect. Thirty three people, almost thirty four. Old enough to look after myself, sufficiently wise enough to offer counsel to those in distress.

Yes Cecily. Thirty three. Also old enough to let a stupid comment slide. Smart enough to laugh at the vanity of silly boys and sagely shake the head at such immaturity.

So I did. I laughed. And then the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I shouldn't perhaps be flattered to rate a score - they weren't scoring just anyone you know... I was deemed to be within the ball park of their rather foolish scale. I suppose that might count for something. Or not.

Ah the silliness... in the end I just shook my head at such brazen testosterone and chauvenism and kept laughing. Silly boys.

perfect (birth)day

Yesterday was my 33rd birthday.

I know. I can't believe I'm that old either. (Thankyou to the wonderful Scottish patient who made my day [night actually, it being a night shift and all... he made my year in fact, it being about 2am on 1/1/08!] by asking if I still lived with my folks and guessing I might be 21. I'm sure he wasn't just being polite!)

What a lovely, lovely birthday it was too. Frank spoilt me from go to (almost) woah, breaking through my post-night shift haze with a happy birthday wish before indulging me with wonderful gifts (tagine dish and funky pendant necklace), breakfast... well, putting my weetbix in the bowl anyway, and an afternoon drive. In between was lunch with a good friend.

We decided to visit the Mole Creek Karst National Park, otherwise known as the Mole Creek Caves and check out a local geological attraction we mostly forget exists. At a pleasant 9 degrees Celsius all year (48 Fahrenheit) we enjoyed the reprieve from the summer heat too.

I'm not sure how you can forget such cool caves as these lie an hour's drive away, but somehow we do. It was good to reacquaint ourselves with the local tourist draws. We completed the tourist crawl by indulging in honey and apricot icecream at Chudleigh's famous honey farm before visiting friends in Deloraine.

Tea was Thai takeaway on the river's edge in the beautiful evening sun.

(We'll forget that we started watching 'Romulus, My father' on DVD when we returned home. Beautifully made, and well acted but singularly depressing in the tragic story it told. Not advised as romantic viewing for the end of a lovely day!)

So there you go. Another year older and it was such a nice day I almost forgot to feel the pain of the extra year.

when you were young... now you are old

I pride myself on appearing young. Most of the time I pride myself on appearing young for my age, but more and more frequently I notice that I'm starting to look older. I have blogged about this before, but obviously it was not sufficient to reduce my sensitivities to the aging process.

Tonight, because the world is getting hotter, I decided to duck into the supermarket after aqua aerobics. They're right next to each other and I figured it would save the planet if I took in the two tasks on the one journey instead of going back tomorrow evening.

It was after 9pm, so I whizzed around without the usual children darting around my trolley or old people limping along just in front of me. Before I knew it I was waiting in line at the checkout behind a glamorous young woman. She was dolled up in a purple coat with circular patterned white lining, fishnet stockings and wrinkled, black, pointy boots. The whole ensemble was finished off with a pair of extremely dangly silver earrings and a pastel pink purse. Between wondering why on earth the young woman was wearing a coat in such unseasonably warm weather, I admired said coat and pondered whether I should buy one for myself this autumn. I also admired her courage for wearing such an outfit, and (after spying a photo in her purse) wondered how the man in her life felt about her sense of style.

Purchase complete, she paid the bill and moved off. I distractedly moved forward in the checkout, my mind in another world. I must have looked quite a sight I suppose - lank, wet hair straight from the pool; wrinkled, soiled clothes hurriedly pulled from a bag; bleary chlorine eyes. Any visions of a fit, healthy loveliness featured only in my mind. Or so it seemed from the words spoken to me by the checkout bloke:

"Did you ever dress like that when you were young?"

I laughed and sagely advised him that back then I had been far too boring for bright purple coats. He proceeded to fumble and drop my groceries into my environmentally friendly green bags, crushing my rice crackers. Could it be that I really was a vision of fit, healthy loveliness after all, completely putting him off his game?

Only when I reached the car did I realise what he had said: "when you were young..."

Crushing! Did I look that old? What about the fit, healthy loveliness? What about the patients who ask if I've just finished my training? What about the lack of respect I receive because I look naive and innocent?

When you were young??!??!?

Oh, what a terrible blow.

Forget the world heating up... what about me getting old? I could weep.