Meeting myself coming back

Waking up this morning, it took me several seconds to work out where I was and why, even though I was in the all-too-familiar surroundings of my Surrey accommodation. I've obviously done enough dashing about over the past couple of days to confuse myself thoroughly! Yesterday's return trip, facilitated courtesy of my wife's car, was straightforward enough, the traffic being distinctly more civilised than I was expecting, although that degree of civility wasn't mirrored in the supermarket where I stopped at lunchtime for a few bits of shopping - it was a typical pre-Christmas experience, shoppers single-mindedly filling their trolleys with things that they'd never consider buying for the rest of the year, and woe betide anyone rash enough to stand in their way. It never ceases to amaze me how the 'season of goodwill' manages to bring out the worst in some people, especially in shops.
At the top of my blog list this morning was a link to this post, referring to hebephilia. The post itself is reasonably balanced, albeit with a disapproving tone, and I felt, initially, that I wanted to comment on it, to try and give an 'insider's' perspective, but the first four comments, unfortunately, all fall into the usual mindless, kneejerk pattern this subject almost invariably attracts, with words like 'creepazoid', 'predator', and the relentlessly inevitable 'paedophile' being bandied about. I'm just not prepared, at a time when I'm already feeling emotionally fragile, to put myself up as an 'Aunt Sally' to be torn to shreds by those who not only totally fail to understand the issue, but don't even want to try to understand. It's impossible to have a discussion with those who aren't interested in listening.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B