Monday, March 2, 2009

Fancy a dip??

Monday Evening

Third week; third shark attack in Sydney, this time on Sunday morning off a beach north of us. We went down to our local beach on Sunday afternoon and whilst people, including our children, were swimming inside the shark netted enclosure, there was a noticeable drop in the amount of people taking their chances in the wide, blue yonder. The local council has hastily put up notices saying it cannot be responsible for any holes in the shark netting, eg if bitten don’t even think about suing.

The key feature of these three attacks are that they all happened at dawn or dusk and thus in poor visibility, to the extent the latest victim, a 15 year old boy thought the splashing was his father mucking around, an easy mistake to make before the teeth sunk in! Every report about sharks emphasises the fact that dawn and dusk are peak feeding times and so Simon and I were slightly surprised as we ambled along Balmoral Beach this evening to see a young woman, clad in a bridal outfit, thigh deep in water as the gloom of twilight settled around her. It looked like the opening scene of a horror movie and we were poised for a roll of drums and the flash of white teeth as the sea turned artistically red. In fact the only flashes were those of the cameras as it appeared to be some kind of fashion shoot. I did wonder how much the model was being paid and whether they had discussed a life insurance policy before she waded out.

I went to Boot Camp this morning and couldn’t decide whether to be flattered or mortified when Patrick, the trainer, asked whether there was any chance he could use a photo of me on his website. He then went on to say what he would really like to do is a before and after photo. I am hoping he means a 'before' I started Boot Camp and an 'after' based on now, but Simon tactfully pointed out that perhaps Patrick means a 'before' photo now in the hope he can whip me into better shape over the next couple of months. Either way am not sure I am up for the ritual humiliation of this one – would feel like Weightwatchers winner of the month or a contestant on the Biggest Loser! Don’t know if Biggest Loser has reached the UK yet – funnily enough doesn’t refer to stock market investors but to a reality show where a group of very overweight people compete to see who can lose the most weight. In between the ritual mortification of weigh ins in their underwear they are made to take bizarre forms of physical exercise. I find it a dangerous show to watch as in general contestants are so large that they make me complacent. I feel as if I am a mere slip of a thing as I lie on the couch, Bridget Jones style in my pyjamas, tucking into mountains of ice cream. I guess it is a variation on the theory that all man needs to be happy is to be comparatively wealthier than those he spends time with, perhaps the female version is to be comparatively slimmer than her acquaintances – mental note strike Duchess of Windsor/Nancy Reagan look alikes off Christmas Card list.

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