Flick your goddam hair!

I've just driven back from town. My route home takes me through the picturesque and quaint village of Churchtown. It's a pretty little place with white thatched cottages, the local gentry manor, pretty village church (where my parents were married and my brother and I were Christened), cute shops and the all important village pubs.

There are two of these said village pubs on offer here, one either side of the church. They are always fairly busy but come this time of year they become a mecca for those people searching for an outdoor bench in the summer sun.

Although the weather today is less than warm, it is bank holiday and it isn't raining - yet - so the pubs were fairly bustling with people enjoying an al fresco pint.

Now some men will tell you that summer begins when the ladies start to wear less when they go out during the day. Forget the clocks going forward and the BBQ being fired up, ladies in short skirts, cute dresses and skimpy tops are a more meaningful benchmark for some.

And today was no exception. As I drove up to the junction with the church and the aforementioned pubs I became aware of a sort of stir. On both sides of the road from a distance of 100 metres and in both of the pub gardens there were men of all ages and backgrounds standing still with tongues hanging out. Tumbleweed drifted past as time stood still for the dumbfounded male species. One man even forget to get his pint glass as far as his mouth -surely an unheard of event!

I followed the gaze of the bedazzled menfolk of Churchtown and there they were...3 undoubtedly gorgeous young things. All tall and leggy, all blonde and gorgeous, all looking like something from a Timotei advert. And all dressed for an evening clubbing rather than a quiet pint down the local. The poor men didn't' stand a chance!

Some girls have this ability - you know the one that causes grown men to forget the power of speech. The one that makes all men turn gooey. The one that gives even the hottest men an inferiority complex. I have never had it - being short, brunette, a bit of a tomboy/hippy and nowhere near glamorous enough. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't suffer the odd pang of envy when these gorgeous creatures walk down the road and quite literally stop traffic. But on reflection I really wouldn't want to be like them anyway. Just think how exhausting it would be to have to spend all those hours looking fabulous before you could even go out for a lunch time drink.

I'll leave the traffic stopping to them and get myself to the bar instead. After all that's what you should be doing on a lunch time drink in the pub!