Kite Flying Friend has flu. Or man flu. It’s all the same to the weaker sex anyway. But whatever you call it, it doesn’t alter the fact that the poor duck is roasting hot one minute and freezing cold the next, dripping with sweat and flinging off the duvet only to have to tuck it firmly around him again. He had a terrible night, he told me. Welcome to my world.
He was suitably chagrined. “I don’t know how you put up with it!” he said, with something which I hope was close to awe. “Oh, it’s only for two or three years” I replied jovially, just as if it was no problem at all. Yeah right. I am taking so many herbal remedies you could grate me onto a pizza for a very interesting effect.
I have also learnt there are some very bad times to have a hot flush. In yoga class while doing a down face dog comes to mind. It’s not nice to drip on your yoga mat – you could slip and have a nasty accident.
It’s not great if you’re wearing a wetsuit either. There’s simply no quick way out of one of those – even before your hands are slithering too much to grasp the zip.
And it’s a total and complete pain in the arse when you’ve just dried yourself after a shower to discover you have to start all over again. Slippery When Wet for middle aged women. Not what Jon Bon Jovi intended, that’s for sure. Especially not when you find yourself sliding out of a fond embrace with all the elegance and aplomb of a jellied eel.
Of course, you adjust. You know exactly where the nearest window is at all times and make sure it’s a moment’s work to fling it open. You ditch your man-made fabrics and become an expert in layering cotton clothes. You buy yourself a softtop. You consider having a tattoo. You make plans with your girlfriends to acquire matching shopping trolleys the moment you retire. You buy yourself a softtop. You learn to surf. You fly kites. You build sandcastles. You buy yourself a softtop.
It’s not all bad.
