And here's to you - Paul Simon

London is gearing up for a terrible snowstorm tonight: 4centimeters in the capital. Wow. Two inches at the most. Crippling!! When we get half an inch, the city grinds to a complete halt. That would make the people of New York-in fact, the entire eastern seaboard-laugh hysterically.

I am now at 77 weeks-today, in fact-and I have to say that I have done my due diligence when it comes to exercise, hydration, and all the stuff I am told I have to do to keep upright, if not get any better than I am now. Grrrr....I am at 50% recovery of balance - at the most, and not every day - and I want more. Call me greedy.

I had to laugh this week. When I leave my building, I have two choices (apart from the third one, which is: fall over): I can turn right or I can turn left. If I carry on straight, I will hit somebody's house. Now-I mention this because I seem to be attracting a fan club. Remember I said that I always meet the men who are alcoholics, drug addicts or psychotics? Well - in addition to the married, misogynistic, etc, etc of my last post! I also said that I meet the ones who are ancient and don't have their own hair and teeth (clearly, I need to both get out more and develop better people skills!!).

If I turn to the right, I have an elderly man who lives just down the road-and who has decided that he absolutely must tell me all about his bad feet, arthritis, his recent triple bypass, and, of course (since he claims to be pushing 80), his problem with hemorrhoids. Oh, Joy!!! I do my best to sympathize, but, really- hemorrhoids???? WHY tell me? Does he think that this is attractive to women? And he's bald, so he can forget it. I get all queasy just thinking about it-and I certainly do my best NOT to think about it. So I turn left, and I walk the long way. Well-Dr. Dimples, my neurologist, said walk. If I could sprint, I would.

Don't you know that I have an old geezer down the road-all the way down the road, after I have dodged the women with their prams, and said hello to various (younger) people I know, who practically pounces on me every time he sees me? He stopped me this morning and said that he is 75 and still loves to have sex. He looks like he hasn't had a wash in 50 of those 75 years; his fingernails are filthy and yellow, and so is every part that is visible beneath a dirty jacket and whatever else he is wearing. I try not to look, and I try to stay well away in case he has anything on him that is still moving and can jump.

He proceeded to tell me that I remind him of his daughter, and I am probably around her age. I said I probably am, and I am not interested in men who are old enough to be my father (I was smart enough to leave out the part about dirty and disgusting, as well as ancient and creepy). God!! The filthy old git was hitting on me!! So, of course, I had to tell a lie: not just any lie, but a whopper. I'm sure I will go to Hell for this! I said I have a partner who is a police detective, and a house full of children, and I am not interested in him in the slightest-but that my husband would be very interested if he keeps being so personal. And that was that. He oozed into his house, and I continued on, and I was starting to itch. Naughty me!

That wasn't the most hilarious bit of my day, though. I went into my bank, and had a quick chat with one of the bank staff, a young guy I have spoken with before, and who must be all of 28 or 29.

The bottom line is that this young guy was telling me how he was having girlfriend problems (why does everyone in creation tell me about girl/boyfriend problems, like I'm an expert in personal relationships? I must have that kind of face: a mug's face. :(  And then he started telling me that he really likes older women.
(sorry, I should have warned you, and you are probably choking on your coffee as I tell you this). He said he thinks I'm beautiful, even with the walking stick and the balance problem-and asked me if I like to date younger men. I nearly fell off the chair, and not from dizziness, I can confirm!!

Oh, look at that, my Mrs. Robinson moment, and I wasted it (not completely, though). I so wanted to tell him to come back when his voice breaks and his balls drop - but I couldn't be nasty, the poor thing looks like he is still in puberty. So I said that I would keep this in mind, and that I would start dating once I get more of my balance back and get off the flaming walking stick. He said he didn't mind-I said he's very sweet, and I now will be working even harder (another lie. I'm definitely going to Hell).

So that was my end of the week. I now have to think about climbing out my back window - or leaving the house while it is still dark. Maybe I will start wearing a hoodie. In any case, I will keep flirting with the young bank rep. Perhaps I will start introducing myself as Mrs. Robinson - agony aunt!