Strut your funky stuff

Leaving work at 4.30 a couple of days ago I couldn’t handle the intense sunshine. 30 degrees C and bright sun just don’t agree with my Celtic skin and at that time of day the sun is directly in my face on the way home along the length of Princes Street. So I nipped up behind Jenners and walked along Rose Street Lane where I could keep on the shady side of the street. Being pedestrians and full of pubs and restaurants there were tons of folk sitting on pavement tables drinking away.

Then what do I see walking towards me? A girl in a bikini. An extremely stunning girl in a bikini, a perfect body. Like model perfect. Taut tummy and a fulsome chest, which, judging by the jiggle factor (and I know my breast jiggles, being a lifelong pervert) were also perfectly natural. As I finally dragged my eyes up as far as her face I realised she was also perfectly made-up and her hair looked like she had just walked out of the salon. This made me wonder, as I stopped to pick up my jaw from the pavement, was this some advertising stunt? Something for the Fringe perhaps? But she had no fliers and certainly nowhere to keep them anyway. A girl in a bikini would be unusual even lounging in sun-kissed Princes Street Gardens, but walking down a street in the middle of the city?

Actually sashaying would be more accurate as her hips moved up and down as if piston driven, her bum moving like one of those old Citroens with the gas suspension while her bikini top appeared to have two Volkswagen Beetles trying to parallel park inside. Well, whether she was advertising something, on a dare or simply her way of dealing with the heat it certainly brightened my day. I’ve been walking down Rose Street Lane more often now.