Monday, 10 October 2011


While I am waiting for our Cornish Hens to Roast for our Thanksgiving Dinner, (Cornish Hens for my Cornish Man) thought I would share an amusing story.  Well, I think it's ironically hilarious .....

To me, moving around relatively unseen is a new agreeable experience.  I can stroll amongst tourists, teens and wealthy theatre patrons without being noticed at all.  No one perceives Moi with bike stopping to take photographs of old buildings, flowers, and the public enjoying their day.  I welcome and yes, love this new feeling of Invisibility.  (like Harry Potter wearing his magic cloak)

Young people generally don’t observe people my age unless you are directly useful.  They hone in and detect others of their same era, noting if they are trendy, beautiful, geeky, etc; looking for contact, looking for approval. They are so engrossed in their mission, that quite often you literally have to sidestep or jump off the pavement otherwise you’ll be mowed down by a chatting group. Again I'm Invisible.
I remember the attention I received in my youth; to avoid a group of males, to dodge comment or harassment would take planning.  Especially passing by construction sites which evoked a feeling of mortification and a need to hurry away; a note to self to steer clear of that street in future.
I can now observe construction sites undetected and I like it, they're interesting places. 

So, definitely Invisibility has its many positives.  This new awareness brings on liberties and autonomy that I longed for in my early twenties; worrying about how one looks or dresses is not too important anymore and with that when I do approach someone to chat about the peaceful scenery, the lovely day etc., the encounter is one more of trust and connection between two human beings on the same level, not based on appearance or sexuality.

So, imagine my surprise the other day when I biked down a silent street in Stratford, with my husband in tow (for a change) and passed a group of three males who looked to be about our son’s age of nineteen to twenty.  A loud voice cut through the quiet, “Yo Baby, WhaSUP Hun?”
My brakes screeched to a halt and I leaned on the curb and looked around as I hadn’t noticed anyone else around.  One of the boys, gave a flirtatious gesture and again I looked around; oh my, he was looking at me! “Is he looking at me?”  I asked my Cornishman, (who obviously was invisible to this youth.)  “Yeah he is.”  He smirked, and his eyes crinkled into a smile.  I cackled and waved back, then pedaled fast away before the poor boy realized I’m old enough to be his mother and horribly embarrass himself in front of his friends. 
Further down the street, we stopped as I was nearly keeling over with laughter. “Either that fellow is high, blind or I look deceptively hot in my helmet and father’s old plaid shirt.”  
“You look good to me.”  Replied Del. 
As my father would have said, "It's one Dandy of a Tartan shirt!"
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone.


  1. You're lucky - as you can imagine about the nicest thing Paul has ever said to me is ... "You look like a doggy's bum with a hat on."!

  2. Great story Suzanne. You'll have to enter some of your stories on CBC one day. They always seem to be having contests.