Brass monkeys

ON MY way to work this week, a shiver ran down my spine.
For standing at the bus stop was a complete mirror image of me when I was a teenager.

Waiting there, turning a wonderful shade of blue, was a high school kid in sub-zero North Walian temperatures in just her shirt, tie and trousers. "Brrrr...." I mumbled to myself from the warmth of my Peugeot as I cranked up the heater a little bit more.

I sounded like my mum and dad all those years ago. "Put a jumper on" they would yell from the kitchen as I was halfway up the driveway on the walk to school. But teenagers never listen. They don't now and they didn't then. At the time, I thought I looked cool on the bleak midwinter hike to school, minus a coat. Cool?? I was frozen to the bone but hey, I thought I looked good so that's all that mattered.

I have always been one to stand out in a crowd. My 6ft stature plays a major part in that but I'm also one who strives to do things differently. So much so, that this time next year, I will be taking a crash course in the art of barbecuing Brussel sprouts and coming to terms with swapping turkey and tinsel for kangaroo and Cabernet Sauvignon.

I'm hoping mum will be there to hold my hand through the 'ordeal' of spending Christmas Day on the beach and that dad will be on hand with his toolbox with all the necessary equipment to get the sand out of the barbecue. I know one thing's for sure though .... they won't be shouting "put a jumper on" at me!