Real life | 30 July 2011

‘I need to ask you something,’ said Steve the sandwich man, looking me up and down suggestively as he buttered my baguette.

‘I need to ask you something,’ said Steve the sandwich man, looking me up and down suggestively as he buttered my baguette.

I like Steve. I call at his sandwich hut just off the A3 almost every time I go to the stables to ride my horse. I always order a tuna mayonnaise baguette with salad no onions. And he and I always have a little flirt with each other while he makes it. Steve has spiky peroxide blond hair, a ring through his nose, and lots of tattoos. But I’m getting to that stage in life when such things are no longer a bar to romantic progress. Age may very well be God’s way of making you see beyond a fuzzy blue and green eagle on a hairy chest to the beautiful soul within, or whatever.