Here is the view from my lunch table on Saturday, of the former Royal Yacht Britannia.
And as I wandered around after lunch while my ladies shopped I was sure that the slim and beautiful young mini-skirted lady with the East European accent who had been approaching young people would not bother with me... but no, she beckoned me towards her and leaning her head very close to mine she said, "We need to talk."
Really? I thought, pondering her interesting approach and that perhaps she thought I was a susceptible old chap who could easily be separated from my money by her charms, and they were considerable charms.
"Really?" I said, echoing my thought.
"Yes really," she assured me, before continuing in her lovely rich accent with, "Have you ever been to the Dead Sea?"
"Well do not ever bother now, because I have brought it here for you."
My God though that voice and smiling face was a very alluring package, I thought, while also thinking, Ah... she is selling some slippery concoction of mineral salts to slap on my skin.
By now she had grabbed my hand in hers and was saying, "Here, give me your hand." And while I was rather enjoying my hand being in hers I saw the tube of cream approaching in her other hand.
"Oh... your skin is rather dry," she declared.
What a surprise.
Reluctantly, I decided things had gone far enough, and pulled my dry hand away.
"I'm sorry. No thanks," I said, astonished that I was actually apologising for disappointing a gorgeous young East European girl by pulling my hand out of her hand.
And as I walked away she smiled and said, "Ah well. You have a very nice day."
And later I looked down on her from the balcony above, and saw a man of about the same age as myself offering her his credit card.
Mr Mug, I thought, or perhaps those Dead Sea salts in gloopy cream really are great for old dry skin.