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I have a confession to make, I’m a rampant people watcher!

There’s nothing I like more than to sit and quietly observe human life as it ebbs and flows around me. I see some fascinating stuff!

Jackie's Miss Marple

Jackie's Miss Marple

Last week my husband whisked me off to a Country Club Hotel as a birthday treat. I was in my element watching the behaviour and interaction of my fellow guests whilst trying to guess their stories.

I had been observing one woman who entered the hotel restaurant. She’d caught my eye when she walked in sporting her strappy, gold sky-scraping stilettos and designer handbag. Soon I caught her taking sneaky peeks at me.

It seemed the watcher had become the watched. I had spotted her taking in my jewellery and my freshly blow dried hair.

Her fake tan was of a David Dickinson hue. She wore a sleeveless, fitted, black dress with a pastel pashmina. I’ve never been able to carry off a pashmina, being short, I tend to look like I’ve just wrapped a travelling rug around my shoulders.

I tried to guess her age, probably mid to late fifties. She had long blonde hair but wore it in a dated Carmen roller style, more Vanessa Feltz than Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. She had good upper arms though they were starting to sag a little, hence the pashmina for camouflage, obviously arms were a touchy subject. I found myself wondering what she’d looked like when she was younger, probably stunning!

I’m always fascinated by glossy looking woman, as no matter how hard I try I always seem to look like I’ve been styled by Stevie Wonder! Her wedding finger was loaded up with a selection of rings and she was suggesting to her partner what he should have to eat, though he was solely interested in the ordering of the wine. When their food arrived surprisingly he ate like a gannet!

‘‘There’s not a pick on him too!’’ I said out loud to my husband.

‘‘Who?’’ he asked perplexed.

‘‘That fella over there, he’s scoffing all around him and he’s as skinny as anything. I wonder if they’re married, or lovers on a romantic tryst, do you think she’s a bit long in the tooth for dirty weekends?’’ I asked.

‘‘What are you talking about?’’ chimed in my son.

‘’Never mind son, your mum’s doing her Miss Marple act again!’’ sighed hubby.

I kept my musings to myself after that and left the restaurant before her. I noticed her craftily checking me out on the way past. You’d better not be wondering if my nine-year-old is my son or my grandson missus! I found myself thinking defensively.

Next day I was watching a wedding below our hotel window and there was pashmina woman again in a gold outfit, this time with obligatory gold pashmina for maximum arm coverage. Aha, so they are here as wedding guests, I deducted.

I called hubby over to see the beautiful bride.

‘‘Look at that, she’s a skinny as a rake and look at the big bridesmaids she has picked. She was making sure she was the belle of the ball!’’ I laughed.

‘‘Will you stop nosing!’’ he said coming to my side.

The wedding party was being photographed standing on the other side of a fountain with their backs to us, the groom stood on one side of the bride and a bridesmaid on the other.

They both had their arms around the bride’s back then, their hands met and they clasped each other’s hand tenderly for several moments.

‘‘Oh did you see that!’’ I gasped.

‘‘Who would do that? Even if that was her brother, who would hold hands like that? They are obviously lovers! God love the bride, she’s probably dieted herself to distraction and he’s been slipping about with the big girl beside her! It’s bad enough to discover your man’s being unfaithful but with someone fatter than you would be even worse.’’

‘‘You’re terrible,’’ he scolded, but he’d seen it too and so had pashmina woman who’d been standing unnoticed on the side-lines behind the wedding party.

Something drew her eyes towards my window and our gaze locked for a moment. I recognised in her a fellow people watcher. The groom was a fool to think no one would notice his surreptitious clasping of the bridesmaid’s hand. In the immortal words of Bob Geldof; ‘there’s always someone looking at you’. Beware the people watchers because we’re everywhere. Someone may even be watching you reading this!