Now, of course, I’m not actually interested in the handsome pilot who lives virtually across the road from my current abode, after all I’m a happily married woman and he is a happily married handsome pilot, and he must be much younger than me… although that is really beside the point because, as I said, I’m not interested anyway for all the aforementioned reasons. We have spoken only the once, on the day I arrived, which was when Glenn and Sue were still here; but we have waved from our cars and respective driveways. I’ve often wondered if we would ever speak again as he is often up, up and away at work. Why did it have to be today of all days?

Well, I’m sure you will understand my predicament when I explain. Today, for the first time during my four weeks here, I decided to abandon the Stepford look of sartorial perfection, beauty and composure, which I normally adhere to – especially whilst doing the household chores – in favour of the more natural look… for lawn mowing.

“Who will see me?” I reasoned with myself, “And anyway, there are only a few housewives at home during the day and they won’t mind or even notice what I look like…”

So after my shower I left off make-up and I scraped my unkempt hair back into a ponytail; I put on a pair of my shortest shorts and wore only a bikini top above them – it was going to be hot work in the garden and I had a feeling I would get covered in grass cuttings and grass seeds so I reckoned that less was best. Just as I was about to go out and search for the mower in the shed there was a knock at the front door and a man’s voice called out.

“Hello?”

I couldn’t see who it was from where I was standing; I hoped beyond hope that it was just a postman with a parcel too big to fit in the letterbox. I considered, but thought better of, pretending not to be home as the open front gate and kitchen door were a bit of a give-away. No, I had to brazen it out, but not at the front door, I went to the side door by the kitchen…

“Hello Sally!” the handsome pilot had moved across and stood the other side of the screen door and lifted his sunglasses to reveal his lovely eyes.

“I bet he has twenty-twenty vision,” I thought to myself.

“Sorry, I haven’t got any make-up on and I’m dressed like this. I’m about to do the mowing,” I explained.

“You look alright,” he said, “I’ve just come to move the car.”

I opened the screen door a tad, in pretence of being casual about my new look, and we chatted about the gorgeous children belonging to the handsome pilot. At last he wanted to check and see if the car was still running and I moseyed over with him (I put my hand on my hip in order to look relaxed and at ease). The engine wouldn’t start.

“I’ll just nip home and bring something to get it started,” he said.

“Not the usual jump-leads,” I noted to myself and wondered what modern device had been invented since last we used jump-leads at home (without actually speaking aloud).

This was my opportunity to dash inside and put on a top to hide my modesty, and while I was about it I also brushed my hair and put on some eye-liner. Feeling much more myself, I walked out of the bathroom just in time to hear Richard calling through the screen door:

“I’ve got it started so I’ll be off. Thanks Sally!”

I went to the door and waved goodbye as he pulled into his drive (my open-plan lounge-room is very long and his house is very close). I returned inside, cast off my pretty top, and proceeded to get a great tan while I did the mowing.