I hope neither my beloved partner or a certain Yorkshire mobile car valeting service will ever read my blog, because I am about to incriminate myself here.

Around midday I took a break from my computer and went for a walk, since it seems a shame not to enjoy a rare warm, sunny day after the past several non-summers. Coming back down the steep hill into the village on the home stretch, I encountered a mobile valeting service man cleaning a car by the roadside. We exchanged cheery salutations, as one does, and I guess I must have been looking hot (not like that! Well sheesh, have it your own way then... *grin*) because he offered me a drink from his water bottle.

We passed a few pleasantries about the weather, and I made suitable manly and knowledgeable comments about the car he was cleaning ("It's a nice colour, isn't it?") but I'm afraid for once, my attention wasn't distracted by shiny things.

He was maybe a few inches shorter than me, and I'm on the midget side of tall. Close-shaved hair, powerfully built but not overly-bulging, strong shoulders and back displayed to full advantage in a muscle tee as he twisted water out of his shammy leather. Veritably, a pocket Vin Diesel! - and anyone who knows me knows that's like nectar to a hungry bee. Lord save me from such temptation! My eyes must have been as round as the car's hub-caps.

I bet he was straight as a flagpole (not one flying the rainbow flag, either). I keep telling myself that. But I wonder if I can justify getting my modest, battered, old Ford valeted - yes of course I made a note of the company's name! *grins* You never know when you might need a full servicing....