It happened last week, when a sunny afternoon beckoned me outdoors. At first, I resisted, but the temptation was too much. Minutes later, chirping birds and the clear blue sky welcomed me as I stepped out the front door.
Shutting the garden gate with a gentle click, I turned and suddenly knocked into my dear friend Mildred. Oops! Her handbag (designer, remember?) fell on the ground.
‘And where are we going in such a hurry?’ she enquired (note the uppity lingo), as she picked up her bag and reached up to smooth her light brown, streaked curls. For with each nod, her curly locks did a defiant bounce on her head, as if in agreement with whatever Fate had planned.