"Excuse me, mate. Could you help me with my zip?" Good Lord, it's not often walking the dog at the beach ends with someone posing that question. OK, it's not EVER. I suppose people who hang around dogging sites are used to such queries, but I don't and I'm not. Anyway, no point in getting excited. The question came from a rather burly aging surfer who was struggling to get his zip all the way to the top of his suit before plunging into the water at Westward Ho! I suppose only in my rather sordid imagination would it be a comely lady surfer needing help to get out of her suit.
And then, guess what? On the way back from the beach I call in at the vets where an attractive veterinary nurse asks if I need a packet of three or even a packet of six. Blimey, but we hardly know each other and....Oh God, I'm turning into Finbarr Saunders, except mine are single entendres. Still, at least the dog is protected against fleas and worms for the next six months.
Could all these thoughts of raunch be to do with the slow onset of spring. The birds start singing earlier and earlier in the mornings, bulbs are showing signs of poking up through the soil and catkins are appearing on trees. Yup, that's it - the natural cycle of things.
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