It’s Outrageous – A Girl Should Be Given Notice . . .

Google_streetviewC_1381623c I SO Wasn't Looking My Best When It Happened . . .

It was a funny day today, usual routine upended.  Daughter on study leave so no school run.  OK, I was at my PC in my PJs but just intended to check my emails and then go for a shower.  You know how it is, one thing leads to another and didn't hit the bathroom until 10.30am.  (Please don't 'tut', I know, I know!)  Instead of the usual 7am shower, hair wash, dressed, quick blast with the hairdrier and away, came down dressed – thank the Lord – but with dripping wet hair.  Reinstalled at computer and just about to write something deeply meaningful, when Alf sprang up on 'red alert'.  Caused me a palpitation or two as I also leapt to my feet, shocked out of my reverie, to see whether the world had really ended or whether it was another of Alf's false alarms!

Oh boy, must've cut quite a picture for the world – literally – to see.  Felt a bit giddy (obviously moving at the speed of light had an adverse effect upon my inner equilibrium), peered out of the window as the mental mist cleared, with hair still dripping.  Oh yes, probably looking extremely myopic as I struggled to see through the reading glasses which defied gravity and remained on my ashen face.

I should explain that we live in a very quiet cul-de-sac where the only traffic has some business here.Google camera   Imagine my horror as I realised I was being photographed by the 'Google car' looking like the twin of the one pictured.  Hells bells, not only that but it was actually ON our drive with the black monster pointing directly at me.  For a moment I thought it was something from Dr Who.  (The music always terrified me as a child – used to hide behind the settee until the Daleks had gone.)  This black monster was staring in at me from atop a periscope construction.  Suddenly realised life in the limelight should ONLY be by appointment. Where was my personal stylist, hairdresser and make-up artist when they were so badly needed?  

If I ask nicely, I wonder if they'll return for 'Take 2' when I'm good and ready to receive visitors?  How many children will rush screaming to their mothers, or flee to sanctuary under their school desks as they explore Google earth and chance upon the startled creature at No 9?  Oh, the responsibility is truly overwhelming . . .  

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