
It's very unusual for me to feel intimidated when I walk past a group of youths. By the uncompromising, bitter taste in the mouth, gnarly witch expression on my face, we don't know who's going to come off worse from any teenage combat or a mugging. Me or them?

Also, they'd be sorely disappointed on opening up my purse. My purse contains two photographs of my children, four first class stamps, the business card with address and telephone number of my employment agency, possibly a cash-point receipt that says nil in my account and some loose change. I'd probably get beaten up out of pure frustration because the muggers wouldn't know how to spend 13 pence and a first class stamp.

Most young guys are pretty harmless anyway. I have sons of my own and they look a lot more menacing than they are. A bunch of pussy-cats if you ask me. The menacing look is for peers usually. Not for people like me, minding my own business. Trying not to look like prey and minding my own business.

But yesterday was a little different. Summer sunshine got to my brain and I wasn't dressed appropriately for my age. I was down with the little white cutesy dress and flowers in my hair thing. Not a good look for a woman with teenagers but hell, it's summer - big nylon blouses and closed-toe
shoes is the devil's work when the sun's shining! But I felt a little bit self conscious passing the teenaged boys, but I didn't want to show my concern and cowardice by crossing the road to avoid the yoots!
As I passed them, I heard one of the braver ones say 'Gee-Whizz. Can I be your toy boy? You can be my sugar mummy; or even my Cougar'.
This child, with mother's milk still wet on his face, couldn't have been more than 20 years old. I'm not into toy boys right now, but if I was, he would have been on my list of top-10's. But I've not reached the stage where I want to destroy my children by inviting a step-father into our household who's only two years older than them.

Anyway, I said to the boy
'you best go home little man and put on your daddy’s shoes because this... ' and I pointed at myself from head to toe
'...is a big mans game'!
And with that, I received a wolf-whistle and a round of applause.
The first round of applause I've received since hitting a home run while playing rounders at primary school.
Not bad my people! Not bad at all. Goes to show, I've still got it!!
Anyone for Shoes?
The August Mayfield Diaries