Below you see two photographs taken by me, a depiction of the identical rural scene one looking from afar, the other a black van waiting at the gates of a level crossing. (Please read on if you’d like to know a little more?)
Yes I’ve been creating videos (below) and uploading onto my YouTube channel again! This time it’s Model Trains, or more specifically photos taken the day I visited Warley Model Railways Exhibition late November 2019.
With a playing time of 1.34 minutes, that’s a long movie for me!
What better way to begin the day than a pipping hot Cornish Pasty purchased at the train station, I might add be impressed with these photos taken on the move because that’s a skill you just cannot learn!
And the Crowds of people (below)! I’m coming round to thinking there’s just tooo many people living upon this tiny island in 2019, I travelled by train to Birmingham’s NEC and stood for one hour on the return journey home. The station concourse was packed! The Exhibition Hall was ‘heaving’ yet did thin out as the afternoon wore on. Again lol notice these were taken on the move hence the blurred ‘out of focus’ carpet, like I said these are far from easy photos to take.
Now don’t laugh, yes the majority of paying public visiting that particular November Saturday were 95% older men, and lol most above a certain age but hey as the saying goes.
“Every man needs a hobby… keeps them out of mischief”
Or in my case cheap motels and sex crazed women you can meet off the internet…… incidentally there’s plenty of true tails to read here on this my WordPress.
Ever since I was a young child I’ve had a fascination with model railways, my mother even has photos of me aged 4 standing beside model layouts designed and built by enthusiasts, I have locomotives a little track and controllers in the attic, whether I ever get around to constructing my own layout God only knows….. but when you wake every weekday morning at 5.50am and return home 6.30pm after a day at work, then after making an evening meal, washing the dishes blah blah blah, that doesn’t leave a great deal of spare time especially when you realise scratch building ONE single tree would take hours days even!
Model Railways are a true test of patience, they’re a labour of love and similar to all hobbies consume vast amounts of spare time, a luxury most of us just don’t have what with families and occupations, oh and of course hobbies have to be SUPPREMELY FUN or what’s the point?………………. So my plan on retirement, which seems a long way of judging by the precarious state the British economy, is to build my own model railway on a wooden baseboard in the attic lol or where ever.
Hmm but sadly I don’t imagine I ever will, I’m in love with the idea of recreating an idyllic 1950’s branch line, with a steam train winding it’s way through a fanciful rural British landscape that’s long ago disappeared, vast open fields and meadows now consumed by red brick housing estates, but hey in the meantime a man can and gaze into the proverbial ‘sweet shop window’ that is a hobbyists Exhibition!
(Deep down I know I’ll never make one, but day dreaming is nice 🙂 )
I do love these railway modellers attention to detail (above), pictured left religious Monks of all people wandering the grounds of a Monastery, to the right a gardener tending his village allotment.
Above a car accident, again a depiction of idyllic 1950’s Britain with a countryside road accident and obligatory fire engine, ambulance and police in attendance, the modellers true skill is attention to detail and of course depicting realistic scaled scenery…………. and I guess drama helps the interest!
Below the centrepiece steam locomotive also a 1950’s vintage bus.
So there you are, photos taken by me at the Model Railway Exhibition November 2019, to be more specific Birmingham’s NEC in central England.
Several weekends ago, eagle eyed readers to this WordPress may have seen my architectural series of posts titled Trellick Tower! Well seeing as I was in London I took many photos throughout the day and thought I’d share within a post, and why not because I really enjoy looking at personal photos from bloggers I follow.
A London themed ‘photo dump’……………. as the cool internet bloggers say!
Is it me feeling jaded and forgetful, or do Christmas celebrations seem to arrive earlier and earlier each year? Hmm I’d guess a mixture of both or in other words I’m getting old!
Stepping out into the sunshine from London’s Underground Railway Station, and btw it takes a great deal to surprise me these days, the sight of a ‘full blown’ ice rink was the last thing I’d expected to see, oh and accompanied by gleeful shrieks of joy from skaters young and old.
……………….incidentally adorned with the most impressive Christmas Tree I’ve seen this year. (You should see the pathetic example my home Town erected last week!)
….……..and before you ask NO I don’t ice skate.
Below a typical London Tube Station, and I do love riding the Underground system of subterranean tunnels crisscrossing the city, with its interconnecting stations whisking commuters out into the suburbs, and if you’ve ever visited my Capital city then you’ll know this is the quickest and most efficient way of getting around. Just a matter of metres above lie Streets choked with traffic now travelling slower than the horses and carts of 200 hundred years ago.
I secretly took these photos below of unsuspecting fellow passengers with heads bowed gazing into their media devices, it’s always interesting to reading the posters and gigantic screens advertising theatre shows whilst riding the escalators.
Below modern day versions of London’s iconic ‘Black Cab’ and scarlet ‘Red Bus’, images you’ll have seen working these same streets 100 hundred years ago and even earlier by horse and carriage. And here’s a topical fact you won’t have heard of, before becoming Prime Minister Boris Johnson lying asshole and then London Mayor reintroduced an updated Routemaster bus, and I’d suggest there’s more than passing resemblance to the old one pictured beneath, they even have conductors walking the isles selling tickets to tourists also commuters.
Having time to spare also a one day all access travelcard to hand, I briefly visited St. Pancreas railway Station notable for it’s incredible gothic architecture, you’ll not see the like of this grandeur built in London ever again. (Below)
Metres away from St. Pancreas Station home of the Eurostar, you’ll walk through the entrance of King’s Cross Railway Station surrounded by cheap Hotels and rented apartments and YES prostitutes servicing horny male commuters…………. and YOU think I’m joking for comic effect!! (Below)
The gigantic red poppy inside King’s Cross Station marked the Remembrance Sunday celebrations that same weekend, the fact many hundreds of soldiers departed this Station for the trenches in World War One wasn’t lost on me………… and sadly many didn’t return home.
Hmm….. I’m wondering how many people when they gaze to the roof will notice King’s Cross new Station ceiling? Nearly as impressive as the train hall itself.
And because I love trains, I just had to take some pictures of locomotives below!
Walking on through King’s Cross station and quite by chance a famous nameplate caught my eye, eblazoned across the front cab of one locomotive read ‘Flying Scotsman’, though I have to admit looking considerably less spectacular than its steam predecessor bearing the same iconic name. (Notice the very same roof canopy, lol interests me anyway 😀 )
So there you are, photos taken by myself from a daytrip to London earlier this November.
Original fiction written by myself (Andrew 🙂 ) and after rather painful reading one week later, I wished I’d waited because lol the beginning to my ‘erotic’ tale is rather painful reading. Just so as you know I’ve edited slightly, lol you live and learn!
Let us agree to descibe this as flawed but fun?
(And btw a tale of Voyeurism and NOT the movie ‘Rear Window’)
🙂 Now please read on………………………..
One late summer’s evening ten or so years ago, standing whilst leaning against my bedroom window-sill I gazed out upon a typically British urban scene, though not necessarily looking at the detached house of my neighbours opposite, if you really wish to know and I hope you do for the purposes of this tale, I’d awoken that summer’s night to watch one of natures true wonders, sheet lightning illuminating the pitch dark sky accompanied by ear shattering claps of thunder, so loud I’d flinch with shock! I don’t believe in God and creationism, but watching this impending thunder storm, a true marvel of our natural world, I couldn’t wait for the lashing rain, perhaps on evenings such as these I’ll contemplate ‘the meaning of life’, because surely some divine ruler must have created this spectacular display!
So I’ll ask you a question, before an electric lightning thunder show consummates with a pavement smashing deluge of rain, transforming the air icy cold within seconds, how do they begin? Yes and I hope you’re keeping up, that particular evening was uncomfortably warm, a humid balmy atmosphere meaning sleep was restless if not impossible and if you are unacquainted with British weather, evenings such as these happen only three or four times a year in Britain and looking sideways at houses along my street, all my neighbours windows were open with curtains gently fluttering in time with the humid breeze.
Then all of a sudden, catching me totally unawares, an attic room light switched on in the house opposite, a white light so bright against its dark brown tiled pitched roof, this room glowed in the night. The shock quite startled me from contemplative thoughts of life wonderment and creation, and for the life of me I suddenly felt the urge to all but stumble toward a bedroom shelf and grab my pair of birdwatching binoculars and btw I’m NOT a ‘peeping Andrew’ by nature, but yes I’ll admit to watching pretty ladies boobs. Binoculars in hand, I hurriedly returned to my bedroom sill position steadying myself looking at the attic room window across the street (and please be aware I’ve never done this before or since, as for legalities?) I’d propose ‘an Englishman’s home is his castle’ and this bedroom window is mine to peep through if I so wish………… now call the Police!
(Ok I’d agree watching through binoculars was a touch creepy, hey ho!)
With my two elbows propped upon the sill, I can clearly remember physically trembling as I brought the binoculars up to my eyes, then seconds after locating this brilliant white light, finally my neighbour’s room focussed into view and wow that window opposite flooded the optics in entirety and clarity. As if only metres away, I could clearly see the room inside with it’s white painted walls and a second window directly behind looking out onto the farm fields beyond, because this attic room sat below a roof sided apex, it’s very own bedroom walls have you will, only the centre part of the room was tall enough for one person to stand upright in.
Remember this fact because it is important to my tale!
Now to my second heart stopping shock of this truly eventful evening, sparking my imaginations alive the silhouette of a middle aged woman walked into the room’s centre, a slim bodied female pausing opposite our bedroom windows and WOW lucky me watching from across the street. I of course knew this lady well, and let us name her Helen for the purposes of this tale, there she stood motionless, a handsome looking woman 55years old if a day and no taller than 5’5″, yes she’s a girlish Grandmother in the autumn years of her life but with her slender figure, pert bosom and wrinkle free skin, I’m here to tell you mature lady Helen would make many a young buck’s groin twitch hard!
I gulped and swallowed, my trembling hands trying their utmost to keep the binoculars steady, yet my imagination has seldom felt more alive before or since because I’m telling you now, watching any woman is thrilling and sure to make my penis throb hard.
Though the thought crossed my mind, ‘Helen could well be aware Andrew is spying through her window?’
And so for half an hour or so, playing out before my disbelieving eyes began an eroticised performance a guy wishes for in his wildest dreams, sexual fantasies of near naked women sending him to sleep, curled fingers reigning in his bucking hardness, tingling balls within a bulging scrotum ready to shoot their warm sticky seed!
With every nerve in my body electrified alive, I watched as my neighbour Helen wandered the tiny space for what I always assumed was a bedroom, left then right she moved but always returning to her room’s middle window and my transfixed view, only disappearing for seconds at a time, Helen would pause motionless and the thought crossed my mind ‘was she hoping expecting I’m watching her slim figure clothed by only a mustard yellow tee shirt?’ Oh and white shorts clearly visible above her deep silled window.
Then suddenly she turned to lean out the opposite window, gaze for herself at the electric lightning show beyond, and oh my god like a proverbial streak of lightning, I realised those weren’t shorts Helen was wearing because in the process of stretching and leaning forward, the tops of two pink thighs came into view exposing just a hint of rosy buttock cheeks, oh my sweet Jesus… ‘Helen wore panties and NOT shorts after all!’
Shocks like these aren’t healthy for a man my age but instinctively I knew I’d never watch the like of this ever again, secretly viewing attractive knicker wearing women come only once in a lucky man’s lifetime.
Perhaps now bored of watching God’s lighting show, or having decided Andrew had seen quite enough of her ass, Helen glanced into the room’s centre and proceeded to shock me yet again. Holy %&’$ is this woman trying to murder me for in one choreographed graceful movement she slipped off her panties before tossing to one side so revealing a triangular mop of brown pubic hair to match her locks of brunette, a shoulder length style that suited her thinnish pretty face for as I said Helen’s a handsome woman.
Now naked from the waist down, well just below her hairy covered vulva and no not even my binoculars could focus that passport ‘slit’ to heaven, Helen again began to glide her tiny bedroom space all the time with pieces of cloth to hand, five glorious minutes passed by though I have a feeling Helen’s laundry folding display took a good while longer, yet again catching me unawares my sexy neighbour paused, her slim body framed picture perfect behind the attic window, her pretty face wistfully gazing across the room through a stare of deep concentration, and that’s when the ‘proverbial penny dropped’, at last I understood the reason she’d stare into space, ‘Helen’s gazing at her reflection in a mirror opposite isn’t she!’
Placing two hands aside her hips, she all but swayed in a rhythmic arc, first to the left then to the right all the while eyes fixed upon a distant object perhaps a full body length mirror? Oh yes I’ve never been more certain of a fact in my life Helen was admiring her reflection of that I’m now sure, then catching me quite unawares how many more times can this happen? She smoothed her hands across the cotton tee shirt, palms gliding up and over two gentle mounds of pert peaky bosom, only pausing to cup hold and squeeze and why not for she possessed a shapely pair of tits.
My groin ‘bucked’ as if about to ejaculate creamy sticky semen, but I didn’t cum as pleasure giving chemicals coursed through my brain, I gulped hard to catch a breath because for truly the first time that humid summer’s evening, I sensed something near unbelievable was about to happen yes and oh my sweet Jesus yes, Helen began to remove a last remaining garment, with two hands gently clasping the hem of her tee shirt, in one flowing movement Helen drew the garment upwards over her head with long hair pulling messily through the opening, before tossing to one side. And there she stood, motionless, eyes transfixed to a reflection gazing back, very nearly naked with her mopped pubic hair, a pink slender torso and breasts enclosed within her brilliant white bra.
‘Yes a bra! And there’s me assuming women just don’t bother when at home?’
God knows how I didn’t cum, though I could hardly breath through cheeks burning hot and a heart racing so fast it was surely about to explode, and there Helen stood for what seemed minutes thoughtfully admiring her beauty with pursed amused lips and hint of girlish smile. Yes she appreciated her aged body because Helen was still a handsome looking lady, then just as my trembling hands calmed she reached behind, stretching her arms she fumbled the clasp on her bra band allowing the delicate garment of intimate lingerie to fall from her body, hoops of bra strap slipping down smooth skinned arms towards the floor.
And there she stood motionless, my sexy neighbour from across the road stark naked from just below her waste up, two gentle mounds of small pointy breasts and if my eyes didn’t deceive me I’d guess they were a double AA cup. Que the culmination of this evening’s excitement, almost the instant she dropped her bra I climaxed, came hard within my night time boxers shorts, and all without hand stimulation for remember they gripped my binoculars! Feeling my groin ejaculate warm sticky semen stream across my inner thighs, and if you’re really curious my first hands free orgasm at the sight of a naked woman.
Two thousand seconds had ticked from the alarm clock on the bedside table, that’s how long our strip show lasted, a voyeurs delight the like of which I’d only seen in ‘dirty videos’, and now as Helen smiled at her reflection, my breathless mind began to regain composure, feeling utterly exhausted I lent back perching on the side of my bed, nights such as these come but once in a lucky guy’s lifetime, and as for all you readers shaking their head and muttering phrases like,
“Dirty Peeping Tom!”
Remember the window I gazed out of this balmy summer’s evening is on my property, yes you could label me voyeuristic and pervy, but this view is mine to own and I would suggest to any lady undressing herself naked, perhaps it’s prudent to close one’s curtains first!
Though hold on just a second, there’s always the hope Helen knew I was watching, timed her attic room strip after seeing my silhouette pressed against the bedroom window, watching this spectacular thunder lightning show. Hmm maybe she wished me to watch? Perhaps she hoped I’d be naughtily masturbating at the sight of her youthful Grandma’s breasts? Who knows but those two thoughts amuse me to this day whenever we meet in the street, hmm are we both playing mind games of,
‘You didn’t know I was watching on that warm summer’s night……. did you?’
So how did my sultry evening’s tale end, I guess after minutes of looking admiringly at her nude reflection and why an earth not, well as abruptly as this theatrical show began, so just as abruptly ‘came’ the finale or as I’d like to muse Helen thought I’d seen quite enough nudity. Just at that point of orgasm she disappeared from view, the attic room turned pitch black and I placed the binoculars upon the window sill beside me. Yes this once in a lifetime finished with my pleasured body cooling, my conscious mind happy and spent I quietly watched tonight’s thunder show’s final climatic scene, the air temperature tumbled as cooling rain lashed the tarmac road opposite, so cold in fact I returned to my bed a satisfied but exhausted man.
😀 I gotta leave you with a question, if you caught a glimpse of a sexy person undressing in their bedroom, would you watch or turn away?
(I hope reader’s enjoyed my tale and for those who didn’t, a photo post follows sooon……… unless I change my mind………. which I often do!)
Monday’s post (tomorrow) is original fiction written by me (Andrew 🙂 ). So a question, does that post require an introduction? No not really, read my ‘previous post but one’ if you really want to find out, on the other hand no I wouldn’t bother, all I will add is I’ve loved writing these ‘sexy’ stories because they’re such fun to do, mind you they take an age to dream up! Now for a little self promotion, you’ll find many sexy tales on my blog usually featuring women I’ve known…….. name’s changed which goes without saying!
I had intended to say ‘My Neighbour Is a Stripper’ is a blend of facts and fiction, maybe it is maybe it isn’t, but you cannot be tooo careful can you! Ok read Not my first Blog if you must 😀 where I explain how a real life woman I knew discovered my first blog, which just goes to prove friends and acquaintances read our blogs not forgetting there maybe lurkers reading from the shadows.
Hmm I’m still unsure if I’m happy about this one?
Before I break off for the evening I’ll leave you with one other true story, many months ago I wrote a post themed women’s chatrooms, they’re not quite classed as sex workers as in prostitutes and porn stars, no chatroom ladies are just like you and I, they’re trying to earn money to pay the household bills and feed young children, good on them if men wish to pay purchased tokens and entice them into consensually taking their clothes that’s fine by me.
However to make my post a little more I guess personal, I shared the title page of one particular chat lady to emphasise my point and make it more entertaining, with both name and website changed which goes without saying! Then blow me if several days after posting a woman commented asking to remove the unamed photo from said post, because wait for it…………………….. the photo was of herself!
Well that was a shock and a half I can tell you, what odds that a chatroom stripper happened across my blog post? I near couldn’t believe it true however certain fact tied up, anyways she was very friendly and not the least bit upset, I removed said photo and she commented back with heart and laughing emojies, adding she did actually quite enjoy the post but just goes to show you never know who’s reading 🙂 . If I was careful back then, I’m doubly careful now!
Are you familiar with that British culinary tradition ‘the fried English Breakfast’? I’d suggest even if you live abroad you’ll have heard us non vegans may well start the day with a fried egg bacon and sausage, a side order of buttered slices of bread and a steaming hot mug of builder’s tea! Now be aware I don’t begin everyday eating this ‘fat laden’ potential heart attack, but if I’m day tripping in London (for example my visit to Trellick Tower) I will attempt to find a High Street Café such as Sandro’s in Notting Hill N. London.
……… and NO this post isn’t another themed Trellick Tower!
I prefer to travel light if I’m out and about on a weekend, a rucksack camera waterproof jacket and a little cash is all I require, well after several underground train rides earlier this November, I walked a short distance into the heart of Notting Hill and happened across Sandro’s pictured below. A traditional English cafeteria which has all but disappeared from our High Streets, they do survive and can be found in large Towns and Cities but more often than not these cafés have been replaced by that culinary cancer that IS McDonalds………………. you’ll never find me eating a ‘Big Mac’ in these God awful ‘restaurants’, identical neon eyesores you’ll see the length and breadth of Britain devoid of all character and tradition.
Yes I agree Sandro’s doesn’t appear the most upmarket looking establishment from the outside, though once inside, heat from cooking stoves warming the coldest customers walking in from ice cold November Streets, this ‘homely’ café with white Formica tables and London photos adorning its walls, has a welcoming ambiance befitting the average working man or woman.
And I wonder is that Sandro himself preparing my breakfast behind his counter? No idea, lovely food though and ALL for a little over £5, which surprised even me knowing how expensive London is to live in these days! Burn every KFC and McDonalds to the ground that’s what I say, and let’s have a return to our traditional English cafeterias please 🙂 .
(I AM joking btw.)
Now I’m the first to admit I’m far from a particularly skilled photographer, but I’ll always have my small £8 eBay digital camera to hand (all the photos on this my WordPress are snapped by this internet bargain buy), and as well as taking photos of Brutalist 1970s Tower Blocks, I’m sharing pictures of London taken that same day………. not particularly noteworthy APART from I do enjoy looking at ‘naturalistic’ personal photographs, especially if taken by bloggers I follow from across the globe.
A London themed ‘photographic dump’ (a phrase the cool kids use) to follow.
Blogging Thoughts Photos and Life isn’t my first foray into the world of blogging, oh no for sure several followers will have remembered my first WordPress which ended it’s life rather unceremoniously, if not darn right hastily 18 months ago. Cutting a short story shorter, a lady I’d known in real life though not seen for a while sent me a message completely out of the blue! That was a shock and a half I can tell you, the tale get’s worse she’d happened across my Blog hadn’t she and I’m still uncertain how but we’re friends of a sort again……………. thankfully.
Well if I told you this lady had been unhappy that would be an understatement because she was frigging apoplectic angry, though I think the personal language and questioning my parentage was a little uncalled for! And the reason for her enraged messaging was all of my own doing, I’d broken a golden rule every blogger should adhere to hadn’t I, I’d shared our tales of sex and bedroom fun and games with the blogosphere and unforgivably gone and used her real ‘first’ name. Well (as you would) she’d recognised herself within the pages of our saucy true tale, and soon after demanded I delete my Blog.
I replied asking if I could just delete the offending post but no this angry lady demanded the whole Blog be deleted NOW. We messaged back and forth with me slowly coming to the realisation MY blog had go, a realisation this regrettable episode was wholly my fault and of my own undoing and closing served me right, so reluctantly I agreed and closed my first WordPress along with all posts lost also a sobering lesson learned! Then again perhaps this scenario only applied to moi? This ‘inconsequential’ mattered because I’d written saucy tales of sexual liaisons with a mature aged lady I’d actually known in real life……………… when I say aged I don’t mean Grandma aged though she ‘was’ a little overweight which is fine 🙂 .
As I said a painful lesson learned though this lady and I are on friendly terms, and I have met with her again but the nature of our relationship was fleeting anyway. So yes the blog had to go this eventful evening long ago, and with it months of written postings were hastily deleted, a handful of electronic files disappearing into cyberspace without a copy being retained, and here’s a thought where do our deleted posts finally end their days?
The point to this tale is yes all content was lost which in hindsight wasn’t a bad thing because the first few were pretty awful, and I’m glad I started afresh with all new writings photos and opinions, however there was one favourite ‘stripper’ tale I wished I’d kept (but didn’t) and I’m now in the process of rewriting, oh and note totally unconnected nor starring that messaging angry lady.
The moral of tonight’s story is bloggers take care when retelling true as happened stories, but I’d suggest there’s no need to get tooo stressed and panicky, just be watchful with the personal facts you divulge because you never know who’s reading? Perhaps always be watchful someone you know could be lurking? Hmm there’s a thought for all you writers. Anyways no harm was done just ‘a little milk spilt’ and an important lesson learned, and I doubt many people read said tale.
So wrapping up this morality lesson I restarted all over again, and the lady hasn’t been in touch since which is a crying a shame because she REALLY did give good head!
(Btw I’ve a stripper true story which follows sooon.)
Perhaps the reason for feeling so down these last few months is little easier to explain than Brexit, the never ending bombardment of truly apocalyptic awful news stories near drain the life out of me, so much so and truthfully I haven’t watched a complete edition of TV News in probably three years!
(Shamefull, that’s truly what’s called sticking one’s head in the sand.)
And yes you did read that correctly, I’ll go further I seldom read Brexit news stories emblazoned across my workmates daily copy of ‘The Metro’ newspaper and ANNOYINGLY I have no choice at the moment, Brexit news stories appear on my laptop homepage and I cannot get rid of them! Yes I’ll Log-on to be presented with a feed of ‘personalised’ stories chosen by Microsoft because apparently I either need or wish to read them! I don’t, but there’s ALWAYS one story that will suck and draw me in, guaranteed to leave me despairing hopeless and thoroughly depressed.
Or perhaps the sadness I feel is that I’m nursing a belated broken heart, you see my father passed away last Spring and now after that first shock, days of funeral preparations, the emotionally draining cremationhas long passed, perhaps my state of mind is little harder to explain than a delayed reaction? We weren’t that close and now I harbor guilty feelings……. but there you are life goes on 🙂 .
Brexit and personal grief are a ghastly combination enough to drain the life blood out of even the most optimistic of cheery souls. Then again perhaps my current downhearted despair is little harder to explain than I haven’t slept with a woman in what seems ages, after all the fleeting ‘pleasures’ a male’s righthand brings has its limitations! An afternoon with Diana would truly gladden the heart, rejuvenate and nourish my downbeat soul, I love her beautiful Polish mind and gorgeous body and seldom felt more alive than when laying beside this wonderful sexy siren’s naked body…………..Diana’s the most exquisite firm plump tits you ever did see ❤ .
Now lol I’ve truly romantic ‘powerful’ ballads performed by two icons of 1980s popular culture, Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Total Eclipse Of The Heart’ and Carol Decker’s ‘China In Your Hand’, they never fail to bring a cheer my sad soul and modern day classic tunes from my youth, just one thing! Make sure you turn up the volume and play them LOUD!!!
So let’s just say I win the lottery, gifted the riches to purchase the home of my wildest dreams and desires, which home do I choose? A quaint pretty cottage set within deepest rural Oxfordshire, a perfumed wild flower meadow with babbling brook streaming through long natural grasses, lazy days of watching butterflies and keeping bees or purchase a top floor duplex apartment in London’s Trellick Tower?
Hmm, I’m genuinely in a quandary deciding which to choose.
For fear of repeating myself you really should read my previous two posts if ‘this’ phrase Trellick Tower intrigues you.
(Five minutes later)
So you have returned, thank you 🙂 (oh and please note all photos taken by myself and feel free to copy if you so wish 🙂 )
So returning to my question which home do I choose? Well, as of this moment and similar to many a rich Londoner in 2019 I’ll purchase both, the idyllic country cottage for the weekend and Trellick Tower for living in Monday to Fridays……. though I have the feeling the shine and novelty would sooon wear off!
But Trellick’s renaissance isn’t a totally happy tale. Originally designed by Ernö Goldfinger as cheap social housing back in 1972, now that ‘brutalism’ has returned to being fashionable and in vogue, a sickening process of ‘social cleansing’ is taking place across London. Private equity firms are purchasing these concrete high rise living spaces from cash strapped London Councils, decanting poor renting families into cheap low level housing, then selling these Tower block apartments for millions of pounds! And here’s the irony, these until recently hated concrete homes in the sky built for the poor, are once again deemed cool living yet only affordable to the rich and wealthy.
And now to Ronan Point where the high rise dream came quite literally crashing down!
The now demolished Ronan Point, a 22 story tower block built as affordable housing, opened in 1968 but tragically partially collapsed soon after unveiling to residents and public. Poorly designed and shoddily constructed Ronan is the complete antithesis of Trellick built but a few miles away in Canning Town East London. On that fateful day 16th May 1968, only two months after Ronan’s completion, a gas explosion caused the collapse of one entire corner of the building (a resident lit a gas stove to boil a kettle), killing four people and injuring 17 this terrible disaster rocked people’s confidence in the safety of high rise living. A judicial enquiry soon followed leading to an overhaul of existing building regulations after uncovering design flaws associated with side wind loading, fire damage and small explosions..
Looking at the photo above I’d suggest the scars of bolted together walls also off-site prefabricated construction are clearly visible, a truly horrific photograph in so many respects leaving Britain’s housing dream in tatters, the consequence all Public confidence was lost in high rise living and has never returned even 50 years or so later……….. such an ugly building as well.
So what fate awaits Trellick Tower? Now Grade 2 listed and deemed architecturally important by the great and the good, this once reviled building is fashionable again, now privately owned and having been made from quality materials I’d suggest this iconic building will outlive me! And truthfully speaking I’m still unsure why I love this building so? All the more strange knowing that I hate concrete tower blocks with a passion.
I hope readers have enjoyed these three posts written from a personal point of view, if you wish a little more insight and detail then I guess the internet is the place to go!
Theme for this week is Trellick Tower, Notting Hill west London.
Brutalism, def: ‘a stark style of functionalist architecture, especially of the 1950s and 1960s, characterized by the use of steel and concrete in massive blocks’
….……… and by any stretch of the imagination Trellick Tower’s an exercise in Brutalism with a capital B!
I’ve been sightseeing in London again, though this time with a sole intention of seeing for myself Trellick Tower also for my first time, an image I’d seen in many a film, documentary and magazine photo yet had never witnessed in the flesh so to speak……………. viewing something you’ve so wished to see, but only ever seen previously via media is an emotionless second hand experience, only when you see a Cityscape (artwork) with your own two eyes do you know if it lives up to ALL the hype.
(I’d go further, add Trellick to your list of buildings to see if you ever visit Britain’s capital city and you’ll not be disappointed.)
Walking through the Notting Hill’s side streets, my eyes attuned towards the skies hoping for a first glance was an interesting experience, think for a second, how often in life are you consumed by an eager anticipation over an extended period of time? Hardly ever! You’re aware of a soon to be emotional experience, your imagination will be pricked alive yet you don’t know how you’ll react, BUT you know the reaction will be either excitement, incredulity, amazement, maybe a ‘what the fuck whatever’, or a total letdown disappointed…………. but not to worry my initial reaction as Trellick Tower loomed in to view, dominating the skyline above £2,000,000 homes was:
‘Wow, what a beautiful building………. yes I’m SO pleased I came to see!’
Trellick Tower bewitches me, fascinates me, I’m in love with this building so much so I’d do anything to live within one of those top floor self contained apartments for just one week…………. goes without saying because the views across London (I’ve never visited mind you) must be absolutely stunning.
Designed by the architect Ernö Goldfinger in the late 1960s, Trellick Tower is one of London’s most iconic Modernistic apartment blocks, deemed architectural important, and yes his name inspired Ian Fleming’s Goldfinger of James Bond fame (Fleming hated Goldfinger with a passion.)
These concrete monolithic tower blocks were the answer to Britain’s postwar housing shortage, brutalist architecture of the 1970’s now has a notorious reputation, more often than not they were poorly constructed by cash strapped City Councils, with the worst examples populating British cities up and down the land having long since been demolished, and I’d guess both former residents and neighbours living beneath those monstrosities whooped cheered and clapped as they watched them reduced to rubble.
However today 50 years later Brutalism is being re evaluated, the most hideous examples are no more and destruction wasn’t to be Trellick’s final fate, remaining as a beautifully proportioned profile and I particually love the balconies looking across London, lucky residents although they do look extremely dangerous! Trellick Tower is preserved for the nation and according to a recent BBC documentary loved by the residents who live there, one glorious example remains to this day and to be quite honest I’m unsure why I appreciate this building so, an instantly recognisable icon joining an illustrious ‘grade listed’ club alongside notable examples such as The Tower Of London, Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle……………… and I might add a worthy of inclusion.
I’ll finish this evening’s post sharing (borrowed) photographs taken from inside but alas not by me, and WE all love looking inside people’s homes don’t we?
Now be honest, you’re all busy people, do you really want to read a blah blah blah blog where I list the reasons I stopped posting? No of course not, just so as you know I’ve reignited enthusiasm, there’ll be no sex and silliness (that’s a lie) and I’ll be returning with several London themed ‘photo dumps’ (that’s a term the cool kids use), in other words that’s sharing photos I’ve taken to you and I.
Been a while, so what have I been doing? Worrying about Brexit for one (sooo upsettingly depressing), reading blogs written by the (many) middle aged women writers I follow, and for the purposes of today’s post and several to follow, I visited London today, walked the City’s streets (note I’m not a hooker!) and ‘snapped’ lots and lots of photographs.
Only trouble is I’m unsure if any of you lovely people remember me since three months ago, of course you lol don’t? But not to worry as I’ve always said to myself, if at least one person enjoys reading an always original post written by moi, then I’m a happy Andrew.
So why visit London? To see for myself a British architectural icon that is Trellick Tower situated close to the Borough of Notting Hill, and yes that is the ‘Notting Hill’ movie of the same name starring Hugh and Rene, also home to the world famous Carnival. Incidentally the short video below features this 1972 Tower Block built to satisfy Britain’s post war housing shortage, Trellick is now a Grade 2 listed building, a structure recognised by people the length and breadth of Britain with a very short film uploaded onto my YouTube Channel.
(Are you surprised a concrete block of flats has preserved status?)
I’ve never seen this Tower Block for myself before today, it’s an impressive building all the more notable because every major City has been demolishing these grey concrete monoliths, poorly constructed, hated by the residents and quite rightly considered a disastrous exercise to provide cheap social housing for the masses, many have been pulverised to rubble. Isn’t hindsight a wonderful thing, Tower Blocks became synonymous with all that is wrong with inner cities, magnets for drug taking, physical assaults, isolation, deprivation, poverty, devoid of human scale and with a complete absence of (yes) private gardens so loved by the British public, all in all an expensive social engineering project that went disastrously wrong!
HOWEVER with London’s housing shortage now at epidemic levels, gazing out the coach window as the city scape passed by, I noticed shiny modern examples are rising lol like a phoenix from the ashes, with I guess many a lesson learnt?……… I do hope so! Yes Tower blocks are disappearing, yet Trellick remains and what’s more it’s Grade 2 listed which means the City planners CANNOT pull it down. Now for a confusing dichotomy, I for one love this important building which surprises me when I hate concrete Blocks of Flats so! 😀
My favourite blogger LA over at wakingupthewrongsideof50 has been discussing accents, by that I mean the spoken accents we all have, either a product of the surroundings we were brought up in, or a particular way of speaking imprinted upon us by our parents. As for myself and thanks for asking I have a regional shires accent, Oxfordshire to be more exact and more than a little rural when played back to my listening ear………….. and for some reason or other a Polish lady I work with has trouble understanding what I say? Makes me laugh anyways as she leans in because I just know she’s having problems!
I haven’t posted on this Blog for months now though I do avidly read the latest thoughts and writings from bloggers I’ve followed for many months, even years! But as for me I’ve kinda fallen out of love with life, I’d suggest the fragile human spirit isn’t strong enough having to live through Britain’s Brexit debacle, so much so I rarely watch the News anymore which isn’t a healthy way to live and guess what? I’ve started receiving Party political junk mail through the post………………….. can anyone tell me if there’s an election on the way?
(So unfortunately Boris didn’t die in a ditch after all!)
Oh yes returning to accents or the distinctive way of pronouncing language.
Reading through comments also replies to LA’s recent post on the whole written by Americans, I was struck by the number of commenters who were of the same opinion, namely we’re elitist towards certain groups of people based solely on the way that they speak. Yes we do judge one another’s intelligence dependent on their accent and yes regrettably we do assume certain regional accents are superior or inferior to our own, and I’d suggest will have a part to play on how far we progress in life, or our ‘given choice’ of employment.
Although distinct British accents are perhaps disappearing I have my favourites also those that grate on my ear so to speak. Sad to say I’m lol neither a fan of the ‘Liverpudlian’ or Birmingham’s ‘Brummie’ accent which does come across as slightly dim witted (awful to admit), though I do love the broad Yorkshire accent of my Grandfather and have a particular soft spot for a North Londoner’s accent………. cockney is a little tooo comedic for my ears and by that I’m not referring to Dick Van Dykes laughable rendition in ‘Mary Poppins’, no I have to admit I do love a North London.
So why have I attached Pink Floyd’s iconic video ‘Another Brick In The Wall’, to a post themed accents? Listen to this brilliant song and in particular to the chorus rendition sung by (and starring) a London children’s choir, and those attuned to British accents will recognise their North London pronunciation…….…. though lol I fear those ‘across the pond’ won’t think it particually noteworthy.
(As an aside I was their exact age back in 1979!)
Band Engineer Nick Griffin recorded the children singing the verse at Islington Green School, close to Pink Floyd’s studio. Alun Renshaw, head of music at the school, said later: “I wanted to make music relevant to the kids – not just sitting around listening to Tchaikovsky. I thought the lyrics were great – ‘We don’t need no education, we don’t need no thought control’ … I just thought it would be a wonderful experience for the kids.”
Renshaw apparently hid the lyrics from the headmistress Margaret Maden, fearing she might stop the recording. Maden said: “I was only told about it after the event, which didn’t please me. But on balance it was part of a very rich musical education.” Renshaw and the children spent a week practicing before he took them to a recording studio near the school. According to Ezrin, when he played the children’s vocals to Waters, “there was a total softening of his face, and you just knew that he knew it was going to be an important record”.
In exchange for performing vocals, the children of Islington Green School received tickets to a Pink Floyd concert, an album, and a single. The footnote to this tale is following a change to UK copyright law in 1996, the children’s choir members became eligible for royalties from broadcasts, and after royalties agent Peter Rowan traced the choir members through ‘Friends Reunited’, they successfully lodged a claim for royalties with the Performing Artists’ Media Rights Association in 2004.
So if there’s any conclusion to be made from this afternoon’s post, we all have our favourite spoken accents, we shouldn’t (but do) judge a person’s worth and intellect by the way they speak and yes Islington’s North London children’s choir is awesomely fabulous…………………. I do hope you listened!
I know I haven’t been around for a while, long story but not to worry.
Oh yes! A woman flashed her cotton panties at me today, so I’m wondering was lifting her dress accidental as I walked toward her, little more than her preoccupied wistful mind elsewhere, or lol was I the victim of a sexual assault? BECAUSE being serious for a second if I was to pull my trousers down in public, in full view of a pretty young woman walking toward me then I’d have some serious explaining to a Court Judge!
Nah of course not, pretty women can flash me their underwear to their young heart’s content.
I had intended to write a Post featuring the work of 1950s artist ‘Art Frahm’, why an earth would he wish to paint young women in distress at the point of her panties having slipped down shapely legs? What’s more at the most inopportune moment and in full gaze of bemused ‘lucky’ guys, talk about women in distress! Without Googling the reasons why? (I never do) I’m lost for words apart from a woman’s letter posted to a magazine’s editor, apparently this scenario was prone to happen in 50’s America simply because knicker elastic wasn’t as strong as it should have been!
Hmm, I’m NOT convinced.
Where was I? Oh yes I’ll never forget today’s young lady DELIBERATELY showing me her panties, a photographic image now hardwired into my memory for as long as I live……… hence the reason I had to write a blog along with all my other sexy stories.
Cutting a short story even shorter (busy lives and all), today has been Britain’s hottest day this year, hence lunchtime break I just had to wander into Oxford City centre and women watch (judge me 😀 ) well I’d gotten but 50 metres from my workplace and what did I see on this gloriously humid sunny day? A young woman suddenly stopped 20 paces in front of me, there’s more! In one near choreographed movement, she lifted a hand toward her head removing a pair of spectacles, the finger’s of her other hand clasping the hem of a girly pastel dress, and wonderful for Andrew she lifted said dress in full view and proceeded to clean her obviously dirty glasses with the soft cotton fabric, and above her frigging WAIST I might add!
And yes TOTALLY unaware (?) this middle aged guy was but paces away gazing incredulously at her light blue pair of panties and long slender legs!
Life is a game of luck and chance and today was my lucky day.
I know I could hardly believe my eyes, still can’t, how I didn’t pass out there and then God only knows. Now with spectacle’s freshly cleaned, dress hem released and allowed to fall, the glasses were reposition affront a pretty face and she continued to wander past me as if the incident had never happened, there was no hint of a sweet smile, nope she didn’t even make eye contact, her unfazed expression betraying wistful thoughts and a mind elsewhere?
I must admit I’m at a loss as to why any woman would lift her dress in public, reveal her underwear with mobile phones camera’s poised to send an image viral. Who knows why, perhaps there are people in this world who LUCKILY don’t care what other’s think? Anyways when I retold this tale back at work to basically anyone who’d listen, their mournful envious expressions betrayed the fact they’d missed a highlight of 2019.
Seriously though, days such as these are a sobering reminder, a reality check that at age 50 young women wandering past me in the street wearing buttock flashing hot-pants, micro skirts and tight fitting crop-tops revealing shapely wobbly boobage, ‘tees’ with plunging cleavage are ALL fabulous to behold, lovely and brilliant except young lady’s such as these will be thinking to themselves,
‘Sad old man looking at my tits, you’re (nearly) old enough to be my Grandfather Mr!’
Hmm a sobering thought indeed.
(Reading this post days later I’ll admit to over excited story telling, but in my defence I’d suggest voyeuristic moments such as these are an amusing big deal in any guy’s day and make for entertaining writing. Ok?)
Laura, because we are lovers of the Apollo Moon landings I’d like to recommend a favourite book of mine titled: ‘HOW APOLLO FLEW TO THE MOON’, you may have already read it but if you haven’t I’d recommend buying the paperback version which will end up bearing the ‘wear and tear’ scars lol of my well-thumbed through edition.
(Rather than writing a synopsis I’ll include my Amazon review (below) 😮 written 2011!)
Because these `independent’ reviews are so useful I thought I’d write my own.
‘How Apollo Flew to the Moon’ is given instant credibility because Apollo astronaut David Scott wrote the Forward and for space fans do you need to know anything else? It follows a complete Apollo mission and is written like a text book in that the Chapters contain lots and lots of `sub’ Chapters which enables you to read a bit, put it down for a while and then easily pick up the story up again. I can get lost and bored with some books but this is immensely readable.
It is an excellent book if you like all the Technical and Engineering information about all the hardware and has lots of sketches photographs and photos astronauts took on the moon. But don’t be put off by that because there are loads and loads of the conversations between the astronauts as well!
Something I’ve always wondered about is how from blasting off the moon the Lander was able to find the Service Module? Well all the information about navigation trajectory and burns is here. There are even two pages of definitions for all the LM computer programs.
Most importantly there are loads of new facts, like I never knew they carried a radioactive cylinder which was taken off the outside of the LM on the moon and then placed in the ALSEP so providing its electricity.
Finally and most importantly if you ever have those tiny (2.am sleepless in bed) nagging doubts like “did we really go to the moon?” then this emphatically answers the questions. America DID put a man on the moon, who walked about its surface and then came home safely…….. not a book for the idiots who think it was all a hoax!’
(Independent eBook review, in fact the authoress isn’t aware I’ve written this 😀 )
Attempting to write my very first kindle book review after having been absent from writing on WordPress since early June, is more than a little daunting.
Novelette synopsis (age18),
‘Ebby Scott has supressed her adventurous side far too long. An almost-thirty year old almost-virgin, she is given the chance to live out a life that has hitherto existed in her vivid fantasies and in the books she keenly devours. And Ebby has stumbled across the perfect place to help her unleash her erotic appetites.
Across each of three nights, Ebby faces her past decisions, her present choices, and gains a glimpse of her possible future as her sexual adventures become ever more steamy, satisfying, and liberating.
Meanwhile, her hopeful and adoring suitor Nick waits for her back at home.By the end of her three-night escapade, will Ebby return to Nick’s loving arms, or will she be unwilling to give up her new-found freedom just yet?’
I should begin by saying I’ve followed Ms. Libre Pavey’s blog for many months now, a gentle and eloquent writer she herself describes ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ steamy romantic fiction, all I can add is she’s not wrong! I’ll go further and admit to ‘hardening’ (come on work it out!) whilst reading in my garden, several arousals if truth be told my imagination drawn into Ebby Scott’s ghostly romantic encounters. Btw I’m reliably informed the difference between erotica and steamy romance, is the latter must have a story and this novelette is most certainly steamy romance with plenty of descriptive scene setting to hold my attention. Thoughtfully constructed around an original cute idea, enough atmosphere to engage my imagination with memorable lines such as:
‘………geometric squares of leggy jasmine and delicate wands of Japanese quince creating stark silhouettes.’
And plenty of beautiful naked breasts (for as you know I am a lover of ladies squidgy pink fun bundles, a breast man through and through), with pulse quickening lines such as:
‘….…..breasts tipped with jaunty cinnamon nipples, skin turned warm caramel in the low-lit glow.’
I should say at this point, Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ is my very favourite work of fiction, in fact without fail I revisit this ghostly little tale every Christmas Eve for the past twenty-five years, and I did enjoy spotting the author’s clever parallels. Similarly written in descriptive staves with ghosts of past and present visiting Ebby’s bedroom, parallels not dissimilar to Dickens tale absent the steamy romantic sex goes without saying! As the authoress reminds us loosely based on ‘A Christmas Carol’ with even a little ‘Cinderella dancing at the ball’ thrown in, and here’s a thing being my first review I’m very conscious of not wishing to give tooo much away!
As an aside, Libre paley intrigues me because she’s one of the few ladies to dare comment my err sexually explicit posts, not only a beautifully skilled writer but I’d guess possessing a ‘naughty’ confidence, I guess I’ll never know! Hmm? Was my excited anticipation and eagerness to read because I avidly follow blogger Libre Paley, the lady being one of my favourite writers on WordPress probably heightened my reading enjoyment.
Thoughts aside, our heroine Ebby (the authoress) narrates the tale.
Ringing in my ears has been a little voice whispering “write a review but jeeze don’t give away the plot period”, and now I’m feeling perhaps I’ve sold you a little short? Not to worry, well paced sexually explicit and highly readable ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ was a most enjoyable read and £0.99 Amazon Kindle purchase well spent. 🙂
A. Shepherdson 2019 (My musings are a little ‘writing rusty’ tonight.)
I must admit I’ve been in two minds whether to publish yet another boob tale (said that before!) Blogger Lesley kluchin won’t be impressed and I don’t blame her, of all the lovely readers to reply Lesley isn’t adverse to giving Andrew’s virtual ass a written spanking, several occasions tooo, I love them!! I fear my sexist tales understandably challenge the lady’s mommy sensibilities also school teaching values and quite right tooo……… Still, Lesley’s a good looking woman for her age, just shows a woman can still be sexually appealing at age70😘 . (Btw she wasn’t offended when I wrote that because I’m a nice guy.)
Ok I’ve a breast obsession! I adore sucking caressing licking and gazing in wonderment, what more can I say? 😀
Seems an age since I’ve affectionately ‘objectified’ a woman’s body on this WordPress.
Omg summer’s finally arrived with a vengeance and Oxford city is crowded with (age appropriate) young ladies wearing fewer than usual, there’ll be micro cotton dresses revealing milk white thighs, hem lines sooo short that on a guy’s lucky day he’ll glimpse ‘cushions’ of knicker gusset captured in the breeze, and just imagine but for this soft delicate fabric I might see kitty lips moistened and glistening against the sunlight! The problem is I have to keep in mind I’m old enough to be their father if not older!!
Btw this has happened, I’m not complaining ladies but watch the skirt length for heavens sake my heart isn’t as young as it used to be! Or with the advent of #METOO am I deemed sexist for looking and enjoying?
Do you wish to know why I enjoy riding double decker commuter buses in sunny weather? (You know you want to 😀 ) I’ll sit beside a top deck window waiting for my evening’s ride to pull away from the pavement, with a forearm propped upon a window-sill I’ll gaze down at delectable University students (age18) and pretty female shoppers walking past, their animated laughter and chatter a joy to behold, better still and you just know what I’m going to share with you next, more often than not when hot summer days arrive, so do tight fitting tee shirts with plunging necklines and ample boobage jiggling their own merry dance.
And because I’m seated peering down from up on high I’ll watch out for the colour of their bras as they walk on by, and if fortunate I’ll see pastel blouses with their collars open and top buttons undone, omg it’s fabulous to be alive when gazing at milk white boobs nestling comfortably within cups of various sizes, and working down the alphabet from an A cup to a DD, on a REALLY lucky day and this only happens once in a while mind, when the angle of eyeline is correctly aligned and her cups are larger in size, then I have been known to coup d’œil a small brown nipple or two.
Now that we’re on the subject of ladies’ nipples and keeping in mind their SOLE function in life is so that a baby can latch on and drink mums’ creamy goodness so they’ll grow up healthy a strong, yum yum big deal………………..
(Ahh I’ve just had an idea! I’ve some ‘breastfeeding in public’ opinions that I’ll leave for another day 🙂 )
ERR where was I? Oh yes tales of peering down ladies’ blouses! Yikes could I get into trouble doing this?
However this sexy street theatre doesn’t last forever as our gruff diesel engine rumbles into life, alas my down blouse performance is over for another day 😦 that’s until I descend the upper deck stairs and I share this thought with you quite truthfully, again when luck is on my side (lotta luck required in my life, keep up!) A BIG breasted young lady has been seen standing waiting ready to get off, I’m hovering above looking directly down, and no word of a lie, a balconette bra separating two perfectly shaped breasts with her belly button clearly in view.
🙂 Btw she appeared like a vision one hot summer’s day last year, 😀 so ladies be aware!
Incidentally this saucy nonsense flows easily when I’m sexually aroused, why not try it yourselves dear readers? I should add the knicker gusset aided by the lifting skirt breeze scenario happened last August! Happy days 🙂 .
(Two ‘borrowed’ stock images which are NOT my own!)
‘Now before you get all hot under the collar branding my post ‘icky’ and distasteful, just keep in mind EACH AND EVERYONE OF US was born of our father’s semen!………… Oh and I’ll be away for the foreseeable 🙂 ‘
(Talking of good taste, here are two cute puppies before I begin.)
No NO don’t leave me yet!! This post isn’t as dull as you’re possibly thinking 🙂 .
A recent blog Titled ‘English language rules and why they can/should/must be broken (sometimes)‘ captured my imagination.
The correct use of English language, where and when to apply correct grammar rules, increasingly fascinates because I’ve been ‘writing’ on WordPress for over a year now and who wouldn’t be! Though I’ll add one important caveat, the question ‘do I consider myself to be a ‘writer?’ Definitely sharpens the mind, hmm jury’s still out on that one, however Holly once described me a ‘conversational writer’ which I quite like 🙂 .
Now putting to one side a fun pet tale, she elaborates on her current choice of reading Titled Dryer’s English ‘An utterly correct guide to clarity and styleby Benjamin Dreyer.’ which is quite possibly my next Amazon.co.uk purchase, and quoting from her own words,
‘This man is my new-found hero. Basically he suggests we can, and should, break all the English grammar rules we have learned in school. Unless we can’t or shouldn’t.
His writing style is so conversational, you’ll absolutely forget immediately that technically you’re reading a guide to English grammar, and he’s so funny. I was instantly captivated.’
NOW for me this is where our tale gets really interesting, apparently Benjamin Dreyertalks briefly about a challenge he recommends all writers take part in. For one whole week he suggests readers eliminate the following words from everything they write, omg talk about laying down a gauntlet!
(Queue an accompanying drum roll)
Pretty (not to describe something or someone, but to say ‘pretty tedious’)
On the last one he recommends, “feel free to go the rest of your life without another actually”.
And you’ll guess exactly what I’m going to say next!
Well I read that list and thought to myself ‘Holy crap I’m a Serial offender, I regularly and repeatedly use every single word from that list and quite possibly almost certainly within all 195 posts on this my WordPress!’
I’m not joking for effect either and whilst I’m here I’ll add ‘Anyways’ to Benjie’s list, ‘anyways’ is my goto word for realigning returning a meandering train of thoughts ‘back on track’, without fail if my thread of consciousness has veered off topic the following paragraph will always begin with Anyways, perhaps you’ve noticed?
Anyways where was I? Oh yes my fascination with grammar rules, now I’ll share with you my one and only self editing rules, that before publishing this post I’ll check (then double check) I haven’t used the words ‘it’ and ‘it’s’ though I will use ‘its’. “Why so Andrew?” Well in my humble opinion the word ‘it’ is an irritatingly non descript meaningless word, not tooo dissimilar to teenage girls and their addiction to the word ‘like’. Incidentally I have this theory that because girls converse far quicker than their brain’s are processing, the word ‘like’ is ‘scatteredhere there and everywhere’ so allowing thought processes to catch up!……………. 🙂 In my opinion ‘like’ is a meaningless conversational fill-in word however absolutely adorable ❤ to listen to when you overhear teenage girls chatting.
Here’s a ‘fabulous’ anecdote I happened across recently and apparently a TRUE story, anyways it (lol) made me laugh 😀 revealing how intelligent thinking stops an ignorant stupid person in his/her tracks.
Picture this. The phrase ‘NIGGER’S OUT’ is written in spray paint across a large expanse of virgin wall.
Only later a sharp thinking passer-by adds their own brilliant observation: ‘NIGGER’S OUT (but he’ll return after his dinner)’.
Don’t you think that’s priceless insightful and an awesome reply?
(My apologies to Victoria for ‘woosing out’ on Chapter 14, and I know I owe Darnell a post sharing the reasons I don’t use writing Apps such as Grammarly………….. lol no one can say I don’t try to interact here, that’s half the fun don’t you think?)
My apologies to Holly and Laura, I should have known better 😦 .
I’d like to say my Donald love-in post written a week or so ago was 100% tongue in cheek, I made a grave mistake when I should have known better. Several weeks ago I wrote a light hearted jokey political ‘essay’ suggesting the reasons I would vote for Donald Trump as British Prime Minister, big BIG MISTAKE!!! My argument was wholly based around a robust immigration policy, I’d omitted to remind myself he is an untrustworthy fucking liar.
Out there in the real world Political decisions affect people’s lives and quoting Neil Kinnock’s iconic speech once again, “you cannot play politics with people’s jobs and people’s services!” Trump’s future political meddling will hurt the British public’s NHS. Well this evening possibly, for the very first time since our disastrous Brexit vote, the ramifications of a US Trade Deal have hit home to the British public, I’ve read the small print it’s an awful Deal!
I switched on the TV news after getting in from work this evening, you know catch up on Trump’s ‘State Visit’ and just in time to hear President Trump say these words, and I quote:
“The British National Health Service is on the table in any future Trade Deal.”
OMFG what an earth does this short sound-bite mean for our beloved NHS? Privatisation for profit? US health insurance firms and multinational companies hiving off money making areas and leaving the poor without healthcare? Charging those that can pay a fortune for their future health care?……………… In complete and honest truth I am still in deep shock, and I’d guess millions of citizens across this once great nation are this evening filled with dread sorrow and foreboding 😦 ……….. perhaps many will be upset in tears.
If there’s any consolation, I didn’t believe a word of the Trump bs I was writing, but there you are today Brexit just got serious for us Brits 😦 , I guess the sayin “you better be careful for what you wish for” applies, yep I’d suggest today’s ICONIC speech will be replayed over and over again for years to come!
Finally Neil Kinnock’s famous 1985 Labour Party speech, I’ve shared it before and will do again now widely regarded as one of the great British oration of the 20th Century. (I’ll not bore readers with context full text and detail.
Lt. Col. Frank Slade (Al Pacino):“Tits. Hoo-hah! Big ones, little ones. Nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights.”
——————————————————————————– Lt. Col. Frank Slade: “Legs. I don’t care if they’re Greek columns, or second-hand Steinways, but what’s between them… passport to heaven.”
——————————————————————————– Lt. Col. Frank Slade: “Women. What could you say? Who made ’em? God must’ve been a f#cking genius.”
——————————————————————————– Lt. Col. Frank Slade: “When in doubt, f#ck.”
——————————————————————————– Lt. Col. Frank Slade: “The day we stop looking, Charlie, is the day we die.”
Shortly after publishing my recent ’75 facts About meee’ post I began to wonder whether my WordPress adult themed content is appropriate for a man of my age? In other words I’ve suddenly become VERY self conscious!
I’d suggest, and quite rightly so reader’s views will be divided. Now 😀 I’m NOT about to apologise because Argentinian ‘Paola’ (middle aged mom blogger) told me never apologise for your blog, not that I have anything to be at all ashamed or embarrassed about sharing my sexy tales, I consider them a fun read if yes a little OTT but I’m single and very discreet blah blah blah. Perhaps I’m tooo honest here, recklessly honest in my thoughts and opinions? HOWEVER what an earth is the point in taking life and this WordPress over seriously, age appropriate goes without saying! I’ve slept around yes though I adore women’s sexuality, beguiled by their personality as much as any guy, and respect women with a passion.
If you consider me tooo old to dream and write about sex then lol shame on you that’s just plain ageist, I recently overheard my mother talking to a friend out of what she thought was my ear shot. I wasn’t!!
They were discussing their recent evening theatre trip to watch the Play ‘Calendar Girls’, well apparently one of her age 70+ friends emptied her handbag by accident and out popped some electrical wiring? Well APPARENTLY there was much giggling amongst these older girls assuming their friend carried an electric powered sex aid in her handbag! Who knows if it was, I didn’t overhear thankfully but good on her if she err did!
Anyways “she who casts the first stone and all that” John c8v7 (though I doubt John was talking about sex”) should remember I’ve read many a sexy tale written by a middle aged female blogger that would make your hairs stand on end!
Today’s Title is a favourite movie quote spoken by Al Pacino to his friend ‘Charlie’ in one of my favourite Movies ‘Scent of a Woman’, it’ll warm the hearts of many middle aged man reminding him appreciating women’s sexuality is ok and what’s more healthy and acceptable…………… you should listen to the tales regaled by the middle aged men I work with knowing their wives are not listening!
If I hadn’t slept with 35 women then I lol wouldn’t be writing about it and that’s the last time I’ll ever share that fact.
Scent of a Woman (Rotten Tomatoes synopsis)
Driven by an extravagant, tour-de-force performance by Al Pacino, Scent of a Woman is the story of Frank Slade (Pacino), a blind, retired army colonel who hires Charlie Simms (Chris O’Donnell), a poor college student on the verge of expulsion, to take care of him over Thanksgiving weekend. At the beginning of the weekend, Frank takes Charlie to New York, where he reveals to the student that he intends to visit his family, have a few terrific meals, sleep with a beautiful woman and, finally, commit suicide. The film follows the mis-matched pair over the course of the weekend, as they learn about life through their series of adventures. Though the story is a little contrived and predictable, it pulls all the right strings, thanks to O’Donnell’s sympathetic supporting role and Pacino’s powerful lead performance, for which he won his first Academy Award.
GO ON SAY IT! “Yeh but Andrew you not Al Pacino”, yes but we can all dream a little can’t we? 😛
Now who would be conceivably interested in this post I have NO idea 😀 Lol? But not to worry here’s a selection of err ‘interesting’ facts about me, an idea inspired by a tall ‘youthful brunette’ (with a sense of humour) from North America? That narrows 😀 the choice down a little!
Early evening thoughts with MILD adult themes…………. honest and respectful as always (comment if you’ve had your fill of my female sexual observations and objectification of the female human animal’s body)………….. my imagination I fear is out of control 7 o’clock at night, I’m incorrigible, my hardness is excited and twitching hence I write because these posts are fun and keep me interested when WordPress feels a lonely place……… 123 ahhh 😀
Does anyone honestly think this photo below is offensive?
A question for you, why is the female breast nipple such a big deal for a guy? And I’d agree with you ladies who say nipples shouldn’t be, after all they have one purpose in life to allow a nursing baby to latch onto the breast and drink mum’s milky goodness, big f#cking deal? Then babes grow into healthy toddlers…
‘Not a lot of people know this’ (a Michael Caine quote), but according to WordPress Statistics each and every single week, no less than forty-six occasions throughout this May alone! One particular post written by me June 19 2018 has been viewed from right across the Globe, and studying said statistics as I’m prone to do whenever bored, I can also tell you ‘that post’ is also my most viewed EVER!!!
I’m truly grateful and genuinely humbled btw.
Now I’m neither bragging or showing off, certainly not lauding this my original piece of writing as a gem of modern literature, (f#ck no), in fact I’m rather surprised this one is the most popular of all 190! So after a protracted prolonged build up I can tell you Andrew’s most viewed post is:
‘An open apology to women not wearing bras!’
So there you, in some respects I’m unsurprised a bra post is number one because internet aficionados tell us 90% of internet traffic is sex themed, not to worry though I’m rather chuffed and why not.
Two reasons for this evening’s ‘Blog’. Several day ago the fabulous LA of wakingupthewrongsideof50 noticed a blogging phenomena I’d not really thought about until then, I’ll quote in her own words,
‘Bloggers that gave up quickly: I noticed a pattern among them. Almost every one of them used the phrase “Join me (us) on this journey”. I have now decided that those words are the bloggers kiss of death. If you write these words on your first blog you are not going to survive.
As I have not done a research study on this, I can only give you my humble (?) opinion. When you use the word “Join” you are specifically writing to an audience. You expect that people will listen. Bad expectation.’
LA’s Join Me on This Journey post has itself become very popular amongst blogging readers because as she goes on to say, ‘anyone who has written for WordPress knows you blog for yourself’, with all your heart and soul you want to be read, to have followers, to be liked, to be commented and replied to, however writing for an audience is not the reason you blog.
Sadly (and yes I genuinely mean sadly) if you set tooo higher expectations of yourself, write with the expectation hundreds of people will read, then I’m afraid this will only make you unhappy because apart from a lucky minority (who work very hard btw) fame and popularity will pass you by. 😦 A sad truth and only ONE of many reasons why you have to write for yourself, though take heart people will eventually read and follow your writing journey.
I said two reasons. I’ll come to said second in a Mo!
I wrote ‘An open apology to women not wearing bras’ (did I tell you this is my most viewed ever?) For no other reason than I had an absolute blast possibly because it’s the type of post that gets me sexually aroused. Anyways I blogged this many months ago and ever since publishing week by week people across the Globe people have viewed (finger’s crossed enjoyed), and if there is a moral to this story then it’s write for yourself, embrace the creative process and whatever transpires is a welcome bonus.
Oh yes reason number two for this evening’s post! Well I have written yet another bra themed tale featuring women’s boobs and cleavage, which in turn gave me the reason idea to reblog ‘An open apology……….’ and why not ablogfromtheuk is my very own WordPress.
Tomorrow: ‘An open apology to women not wearing bras!’
🙂 A ‘penny for your thoughts’ dear Readers and NO this isn’t a sexual Post!
I’m curious to know if this photo below speaks to you? No SERIOUSLY, gaze at this woolly mammoth and I’d suggest after a moments thoughtful contemplation your emotional reaction will be similar to my own!! Well I’m hoping so, because my imagination struggles to appreciate this living breathing animal actually existed and isn’t a product of CGI science fiction.
So did you take a good long look at this majestic shaggy Beast? Imagined it roaming ice-age Siberia Tundra, or perhaps a similar furry specimen, with its small ears to limit heat loss in sub zero temperatures, following the route of the £1.5 billion A14 Cambridge to Huntingdon road improvement scheme.
You may be unaware a pair of ‘British’ mammoths were discovered here in 2018, and who knows perhaps the last two remaining species alive before receding glaciers covering prehistoric England pushed them into extinction!
So what an earth is the point to this evening’s Post? Baring in mind I know absolutely ‘diddly-squat’ about palaeontology, other than a great many Dinosaur skeletons have been discovered around Oxfordshire these past 200 years.
And yes, I’m genuinely mesmerised by these Googled digital images.
Several weeks ago my Workplace Human Resources Manager by the name of err Helen? (Her name befits my tale) ‘forwarded’ an email ordering me to visit and speak with her 9am Friday morning, nothing to worry about other than a general housekeeping chat and check up on how I’m feeling, lol a long story.
Now comfortably seated within her office, a cup of steaming coffee positioned on the desk in front of me, I’m silently looking across at this 35year old slim woman with mousy brown hair, pleasant in appearance and busying herself looking through Andrew’s medical records forward to her by Occupational Health. And yes I’d be lying if a wicked thought hadn’t momentarily crossed my imagination, visions of Helen bent forward over her desk ‘skirt pulled up, knickers down’ me giving her kitty ‘a good seeing to’ from behind!
‘Doesn’t everyone daydream of sexual possibilities with their work colleagues?’
Where was I? Oh yes woolly mammoths!!
Feeling bored and day dreamy, I glanced sideways through Helen’s office window looking across buff stoned University Colleges and distant open fields of South Oxfordshire beyond, a truly magnificent view for one reason! The 8th Floor of our Department’s workplace is in fact the tallest building across the whole of Oxford City, a ‘skyscraper’ constructed for unknown reasons many an employee has wondered about over the past 50 years.
“How an earth did the original planning application ever get approved, when Oxford’s strict planning laws limit buildings to no more than three stories tall?”
Visit the 8th Floor, and you’ll see unobstructed panoramic views of dreaming Spires,‘buff coloured’ Colleges and immaculate pea green lawns enclosed within high walled Quadrangles…………… jeeze, some Council Official must have been drunk at his desk the day this 8 story planning application passed through his hands?
Not to worry, when you are summoned to HR by ‘mousy’ Helen the real joy is admiring stunning City views through her office window, and it was at this moment I found myself momentarily whisked back thousands of years in time, near unbelievable vistas and visions of woolly mammoth giant elephant like beasts roaming across icy cold windswept Tundra landscapes, and what’s even more incredible these thoughts weren’t the product of any far fetched science fiction! I had to near prick my skin reminding myself these magnificent beasts ACTUALLY LIVED quietly plodding along (as elephants do) thousand year old tracks across this same land, and that truly blows my mind!
Then catching me unawares! Helen looks up into my face ready to begin her Friday cosy catchup conversation and with that all dreams of woolly mammoths disappear to be replaced by Helen’s lovely smile 😀 .
Clichés could well be a blog necessity, Creative writing ‘is a whole different kettle of fish!
Off the top of your head you won’t be able to answer this my question but I’ll go ahead and ask it anyway.
Oh sh#t! Excuse my bad language, wouldn’t you believe it I began this post with a cliché and come to think of it, ‘wouldn’t you believe it’ could be a cliché’ as well, hmm sounds awfully clichéd to me. Do you know what, I’m really unsure if I’ll be able to write another blog post ever again? 😀 , stop right there Andrew because you’re labouring a point and beginning to sound tiresome.
I’ve decided my new writing goal is attempting to spot clichés on my WordPress! It’ll be fun HOWEVER I’ll never be able to stop using them and perhaps they’re a prerequisite to blogging anyway.
Oh yes returning to that opening question you’ll be unable to answer, many months ago I happened across Ms. libre paley, quickly Followed, and avidly read her regular postings I’d both theme and describe ‘all you ever wished to know about creative writing and much much more’, and without trying to appear tooo gushing she’s a captivating (captivates me) beautiful read on WordPress…………… well she is! 😮 And I clean forgot what my question was?
(Incidentally a self published author)
Returning to today’s topic clichés and when to use and when not to use (jeeze I’m frigging addicted!), well this evening I read libre paleys’ (I’ll return to that apostrophe some other time)Eat your words, a truly absorbing post which for me is a little worrying reading, to begin with I’ll quote her Oxford English Dictionary’s definition: ‘A phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.’
‘They are bad news, go down like a lead balloon, and simply won’t cut it. In writing and any public speaking, we are advised to give them a wide berth, to avoid them like the plague or face the dog house. But are they a necessary evil?’
Any guide to writing will exhort us to avoid them at all costs on the basis they are trite, predictable, lazy, and the very opposite of creative.’
Six hours earlier this evening I published ‘I would vote for Donald Trump if he was British’ and please don’t bother reading, well I’d written no less than three yes THREE clichés in the first two line paragraph (and yes lazy writing). Now don’t go looking for yourselves because I edited deleted said paragraph there and then, the lady has a point, my clichéd introduction bared little or no connection to my slightly ridiculous proposition that I’d vote for Trump, who an earth would bother reading any further? The only possible drawback to Eat your words is that I’m now playing my very own game of ‘spot the cliché!’
A question I’ve asked my self many times over this past year or so, is ‘why do I loiter around WordPress?’ Well I’ll answer three ways, I enjoy the creative process, I enjoy the orgasmic thrill as I press publish, and honestly I gain real satisfaction from realising readers are actually enjoying what I have to say, honestly I’m quite humbled.
However believe me or not, I do fret over my limited writing ability and I realise I lack many grammatical skills, lol that’s not false modesty I’m quite happy and comfortable being aware of my failings because it spurs me on, exercises the old brain cells and forwards me to seek out alternative synonyms from time to time. Consequently it’s pleasing when the post reads how I hoped and wished it would read.
MY STYLE is little more than downloading the conversation in my mind at any given minute, that’s all good fun when it comes to entertaining blogging, HOWEVER downloading thoughts and opinions I’d define as tabloid newspaper reporting (and that’s OK!), true creativity is being enabled with the skills to write fiction and poetry.
I’ll share a writing tip of my very own (because I’m a giving kinda guy), it’s easier to write about sex if you yourself are sexually aroused, now where’s that hand of yours??
(I do have a post in draft form sharing my thoughts on how migration has been beneficial to Britain. I’m unhappy with this post especially the depiction of D. Trump so perhaps I’ll delete or perhaps it remains as the folly it actually is, I am undecided. Hmm this is the reason I avoid politics as a theme 🙂 .)
Now in all seriousness the concept behind Trump’s beautiful Wall appeals to many a True Brit, however you do need soldiers firing tear gas to make it totally effective, keep the migrants out that’s what we say!!
I am extremely careful commenting on another country’s politics, and certainly watchful of criticising or bad-mouthing another country’s politicians, ever heard the brilliant saying “those who throw stones shouldn’t live in glass houses?” BIG mistake! Critical discussion is fine but a writer will get himself into VERY hot water if he badmouths another Nation State even if their Politicians are corrupt incompetent liars much like my own.
That is why from the little I watch and hear of Donald Trump’s politics I will never attack him for putting America first, yes his Tweeting can be a little out there at times, and yes he shouldn’t be touching women’s vaginas but it’s all in good humour, we all make mistakes! To his credit he’s fighting for American jobs by slapping tariffs on cheap foreign imports, clamping down on immigration by building his new Wall, also tackling the more complicated issues of handing out work permits and immigration Visas as if they were going out of fashion.
If Donald Trump was our British Prime Minister today who knows I might vote for him, much the same as if I’d been born in 1950 I would have voted for Enoch Powell. If Prime Minister Trump unequivocally promised to close our Ports (we don’t need a Wall) and end workers migration from eastern Europe I would vote for his straight talking no nonsense leadership, and if the Houses of Parliament blocked his supply of funds? Over rule citing State of National Emergency and obtain the money that way, post tear gas shooting snipers at coastal ports where illegal migrants, and correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t this how you stopped the migrant caravan from entering America?
Racism: (def) prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one’s own race is superior.
I am most definitely not a racist in fact I love yellow brown and black people ❤ .
Trump appeals to my political sensibilities because I am a white middle aged male, therefore privileged, his voting constituency, and as we’re all well aware white men can be very extreme in their views the older the become, and not only myself. I’d suggest a great many hard working British men and women would vote for PM Trump if he promised to halt migration in it’s tracks.
The United Kingdom cannot go on allowing 150,000 migrants refugees immigrants and asylum seekers into Britain every year, it’s madness unsustainable and will all end in tears……… oh it already has………. it’s called Brexit!
However I am NOT a racist, I’ve slept with any number of East European women and lovely ladies they were to.
Once again I’ll state as fact I am NOT a racist and there lies the problem, people both blur, cloud and confuse that having an intelligent firm but fair immigration policy is the same as hating black people! I’ll give you a scenario that upsets a Grandmother neighbour of mine, her Granddaughter cannot find a home to live in let alone save a deposit, my Town has an extremely large Polish community purchasing what little spare housing stock we have, there’s even the disgusting stories of Polish landlords extracting the front doors from tenant homes they rent out to British families, a 1950s illegal practice known a ‘Rackmanism’ and I could cite you many more migrant true stories.
The problem with immigrants is they covet your (yes you) standards of living, the only trouble is YOU have to pay for it.
Ok just two examples to be going on with, we grant asylum status to Syrian refugees, give them a home to live in, free schools for their children to be educated in, free healthcare when they become sick and how do their children repay us? To date 900 returned to Syria and joined Islamic State, there’s gratitude for you! Then after several years fighting and being radicalised a great many returned ‘home’, strapped explosives to their bodies, walked into the entrance hall of a Manchester music concert and murdered innocent children! British people collectively wept tears of sadness watching that evenings horrific News on the TV, and then they became very angry! Decent caring human-beings sickened and disgusted by the sight of Muslim suicide bombers murdering indiscriminately.
There’s gratitude for you 😦 , Britain gifts Muslims the milk of human kindness, only for them to blow up and murder British children, I think my heart finally broke that awful tragic day 😦 . All I wish for in life is to claim back the Country of my youth, that’s not too much to ask is it?
A Blog gifts me the privilege of writing as I wish (within reason) also putting thoughts into print, if you’ve reached thus far in this evening’s tale then I’ll leave you to decide and decipher which views are exaggerated and which views are heartfelt honest and tearful.
“We must be mad, literally mad, as a nation to be permitting the annual inflow of some 50,000 dependants, who are for the most part the material of the future growth of the immigrant-descended population. It is like watching a nation busily engaged in heaping up its own funeral pyre.”
(Title & extract taken from Enoch Powell’s speech 20th April 1968)
Enoch Powell died one of most controversial figures to have graced British politics, I tell a lie, Powell is quite probably the most controversial Parliamentarian of the Twentieth Century, and now that we’re one fifth into the Twenty-first his foreboding prophesies ring truer year after year, thus reinforcing him as the most divisive British politician of modern times after an iconic powerful speech he delivered 20th April 1968.
Here’s a question, how many truly memorable speeches can you remember off the top of your head? Martin Luther King’s “We have a dream”will go down as the greatest political speech ever spoken by a human being for it’s sheer oratory brilliance, a powerful indictment of American race relations and so much more. A personal favourite of mine is John F. Kennedy’s “Ask not what your Country can do for you, but what you can do for your Country”, a Biblical ‘like’ lesson with a message that should resonate with every single one of us and still to this day a truly brilliant speech I’ll never ever tire of listening to.
I struggle to grasp the descriptive adjectives to justify my claim Enoch Powell’s ‘Rivers Of Blood’ is the greatest and most infamous speech ever made by a British Politician, perhaps you’ve never heard of his name or the controversial divisive oratory of which I speak, watch the video below and bare in mind Powell preached these words at a time British race relations were at their most cancerous, and still to this day you will hear people on the Street say:
“Enoch was right!”
If you ever wished to understand how and why Brexit came to pass, a tragic humiliation of epic proportions which will blight my Country for decades to come, then go no further than ‘Rivers Of Blood’, 51 years on I will visit a Polling Station for the first time since Brexit, pencil a cross on a ballot paper, cast my democratic vote and still to this moment I have NO idea who I’ll vote for.
The choice is stark, a dilemma with horrendous destructive consequences and a no win Catch-22! Vote Brexit and migrant workers may well stop entering Britain (optomistic) yet at the same time face crippling economic penalties inflicted by a vengeful EU, vote Remain and East Europeans will continue flooding Britain by their hundreds of thousands each and every year.
We’re f#cked either way! The only choice is through which orifice? 😀
(I’ll add one IMPORTANT caveat, Powell was no Donald Trump.)
Read the text of Powell’s 1968 earthshattering racially divisive speech (below) and then tell me if he was a racist as the do-gooders once suggested, or a prophet and visionary who attempted to warn the British Government of impending doom, but note I don’t say warn the British people.
Shortly after Powell’s speech polling figures showed 88% of the population agreed with him, honest decent hardworking people, but of course I cannot share such opinions without being branded a white supremacist, and yet there lies the problem, ever since the end of WW2 people have allowed emotion to rule their heads, forgetting a regulated firm and fair immigration policy is in the Nation’s best interest and not the same as hating black people, we’ve confused and blurred racism and immigration as one and the same, I’d suggest if earlier generations heeded Powell’s lessons the idea of a Brexit referendum would be little more than a frighteningly bad dream. Agreed?
Below the full text of Enoch Powell’s so-called ‘Rivers of Blood’ speech, which was delivered to a Conservative Association meeting in Birmingham on April 20 1968
Discussing our Brexit farce both upsets and depresses me, I will vote this Thursday however I’ll leave the ‘why I must’ discussion for another day, so replacing my planned political posting I have a happy ‘doggy’ tale instead!
Saturday the 18th May 2019 had been pencilled into my diary for quite some time, err perhaps I should be more honest and admit my mother INSTRUCTED me before Christmas I WAS to be helping her dog mind this last weekend, no arguments no discussions no excuses, a friend of hers had to attend an important family function, and mum agreed to look after their 7 month old Border collie all day Saturday through to Sunday morning because mum is a nice helpful person like that 😀 .
We as a family have owned black and white Border collies ever since I can remember, I’ve even shared their photos somewhere on this WordPress HOWEVER both mum and I had absentmindedly forgotten how much hard work looking after a puppy actually is. In fact mum phoned me this evening to say she was exhausted, also a little annoyed because a piece of paper sitting on the telephone table had been shredded, along with an email address she hasn’t a copy of!
Border collies are wonderful dogs, extremely intelligent, quick learners with a heightened sense of play, they’ll chase and retrieve a ball all day long, adore working to command with the only downside they demand a great deal of attention and mental stimulation, and if an owner hasn’t the time also patience to train and exercise collies, they can often become destructive with behavioural problems…………. they’re fun, lovely natured working animals, with energy to burn and most definitely not lap dogs.
The offshoot is our borrowed collie hardly paused to take breath ALL day, she shredded nearly every toy, dug a few plants up in the garden, did her best to try and entice my mother’s collie into playing games of ‘chase me’ around the living room carpet, and by Saturday evening and several outdoor walks (mum counted she walked 15,000 steps) all four of us were exhausted.
Yes I’d forgotten how demanding a breed they are, and even contemplated once or twice buying a puppy, that was never going to happen but our borrowed collie was a timely reminder these are working dogs, and if you want a collie pet then you must have the time to exercise and train. Watching them round up stock animals, agility and walking to command in the show ring is all good fun and very seductive, but they’re hard work and remember sleeping is for wimps! Lol 😀 .
Having said all that I wouldn’t own another breed, we all have our favourites and a Border collie is mine.
My apologies to William Shakespeare for adapting Prince Hamlet’s iconic phrase, (rather good though.)
My Topic for next week might well be Politics, we’ll see, as some of you are aware I haven’t voted in either General elections or Local Government elections since spring 2016, and as of now I’m undecided whether to vote this coming week.
Just be aware my abstaining wasn’t voter apathy, it was a conscious decision after Brexit.
On the 23rd may 2019 the United Kingdom’s voting public return to polling stations yet again, as if we aren’t sick to death of political elections, yes up and down this once great land we the people are being asked to vote in European elections, and the fact we voted Brexit in 2016 to leave the EU isn’t lost on anyone.
Politics! & Religion! Two topics I’ve promised to avoid discussing up until now, along with being open honest and always telling the truth on this silly little WordPress, I’m pleased to say I kept my word. One year ago I made a conscious decision to avoid political and religious issues because it’s depressing, strong dogmatic opinions upset people deeply, and however passionately someone tries to get their point across they will never win the argument.
‘Little different to an atheist trying to convince a fundamental Christian that God doesn’t exist.’
I’ve broken that Rule only once which I’m rather proud of, discussing politics in my opinion can be lazy writing, it’s as easy to rant and blow off steam and a tedious read when written poorly, yet I understand a human being’s existence is defined by his or her’s political views. So yes several months ago I wrote a post admitting I hadn’t voted in either Government or WODC elections since June 2016, incidentally I’m not proud of myself, now I’m asking myself will I cast my democratic vote on the 23rd?
To be quite honest I’m still unsure and if I do the choice may even surprise me!
Let me apologise for the picture quality, I’ve never published a selfie with my brand new Smart phone before…………… well that’s until today!! 😀
All is happy in Andrew’s little world, joyously happy if truth be told,
“Why so Andrew?” I don’t hear you say.
Now without being tooo indiscreet (that’s rich coming from me) Diana a Polish friend and myself booked into a cheap Oxford Hotel this afternoon, well there I was laying face down on the bed, Diana sat alongside me gently smoothing her hands across my skin and I do so love a relaxing massage, when all of a sudden, spoken through her Polish accent she said:
“You do have a lovely ass Andrew”😍
And even though I say it myself she’s kinda got a point bearing in mind I’m slightly over fifty, yep my ass is a (the only) physical attribute I’m rather proud of, so grinning to myself, showing my appreciation I replied,
I’ve enjoyed being a touch ‘toooserious’ recently, so how’s about something ridiculous light hearted & sexual for a change?
Now here’s my problem! The anal dildo toy is inserted ‘you know where’, however I am STRAIGHT! (Hold that thought there may be a Tale to follow ONE day!)
So returning to my question ‘might a person be a touch Gay if they enjoy ASS Play? Now calm down before leaving this post in disgust, I’m very FRANK and open minded guy when discussing sexuality on this WordPress however I’m careful with content and themes. I’m of the opinion sexuality is there to be talked about and yes I’ve experienced a lady’s ‘warm’ finger rimming my asshole and I HAVE to admit she sent tingles up my spine. Relaxed and laying on my side she inserted a lubricated ‘digit’, moved in a circling motion and YESSS the pleasurable sensations are pretty intense, if you really needed to know she also tickled my prostate which was OK but I’ll pass next time!
I guess I’m similar to all you lovely Readers enjoying how your bodies respond to touch however kinky that might be, AND now that we’re talking mild kink, a little light spanking is my own preferred limit because I’m a coward. The real fun is anticipating that momentary sharp stinging pain, the mental anguish is never quite knowing when she’ll STRIKE!!
Where was I? Oh yes Ass Play.
NOW don’t worry yourselves I’m not finally emerging from out the closet (oh you mean you weren’t concerned?) No I’m neither feeling Gay today or harboring any suspicion I swing both ways Bi sexual, however if any readers are Gay Lesbian Trans or whatever rainbow coloured array of gender preferred sexuality you are, then I think that’s fabulous, I’m all for diversity however I’ll freely admit gender fluidity isn’t a ‘condition’ I fully understand.
Having reaffirmed my straightness so important tooo this tale, reminded the reader I passionately and unashamedly enjoy sexual intercourse with women, all great fun however I will admit anal sex both intrigues and challenges my defined heterosexuality I cherish sooo dearly!!
Lol 😀 .
You may already be aware I dislike Pornography, however I’ll freely admit to watching one or two ‘naughty films’ in my time, all very tame poorly written atrociously acted, girl/guy vanilla action, 😮 yawn, jeeze they bore me stiff excuse the pun. I’ll also admit to having watched the occasional men err on top of other men Gay porn film and therein lies my problem, watching Gay sex slightly arouses me, all that frenzied animalistic ‘humping pumping and grinding’ turns me on just a tiny LITTLE. Now remember I AM NOT a closet homosexual but I’d be open to a ‘blanking’ in the ass, only once mind just to experience how ‘it’ feels?
And why an earth not?
Were you aware ancient Roman nobility before they were to be married would have one final homosexual fling before the big day! You mean you’ve never heard of this fact? I read it on the internet so it’s true, anyways returning to my anecdote, the noble groom would take a young man with him up to a small villa in the Tucson mountains, and there they would ‘you know what’ for two whole weeks!!……………….. Do I lol really need to explain any further?
Well the point being our Roman nobleman was straight, but he’d have sex with the young man to rid himself of any latent homosexuality, or so the web article informed me…….. hmm me thinks I’m getting myself into hot water here!
😀 On second thoughts I’ll give the ass action a miss and settle for a night with two lesbians instead!!
Or perhaps human sexuality isn’t ‘black or white’, ‘set hard in stone’, is as clearly defined as we’re taught to believe, perhaps we are all gender fluid to a degree and when drunk enough, and the opportunity arises, we would ALL be open to new different bedroom fun and games with someone of the same sex……………….. are we ALL bisexual to a degree?
You couldn’t pay me enough to kiss another guy mind, just imagining kissing men passionately on the lips is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat, send unwanted shivers down my spine however the thought of a guy ‘blanking’ me in the ass makes my dick tingle and harden ever-so little.
So this evening I’m wondering what defines a person as Gay, if you day dream of receiving a little ass action is that ONE fantasy tooo far?
(I warned you this would be a ridiculous tale, but they’re often popular on my WP 😀 and why not.)
🙂 I’m not a sex blogger, life has been my blog theme.
I love ❤ my mother but I fear I’ve taken mum for granted my whole adult life, perhaps we all feel this way from time to time? Saying thank you with a bunch of flowers accompanied by a greeting card with appropriate kind and thoughtful messages therein, is yes a lovely gesture to make once every March, but in reality is Mother’s Day little more than an exercise to ease a child’s guilty conscience? Cheerily lull them into thinking they’re truly appreciating all the selfless gestures and wonderful things she’s done for them over the years)
‘Cynical’ is my middle name at the moment.
This Post btw isn’t about Mother’s Day.
My Father passed away early April this year, his funeral being a week ago however I’d rather not say exactly where and the reason why. Oh yes an emotionally upsetting month to accept and live through, also a pivotal moment in every ‘child’s’ life (young or old) realising they will never witness that parent’s smiling face ever again, that is unless you believe in Gods Spirits and observing life for all eternity sitting on a cloud in heaven, and what if you DON’T like that person sitting beside you? But if you believe in the afterlife please ignore my flippancy 🙂 .
Then again perhaps I’m jumping the gun, forgetting I may burn in hell one day 😀 Yay at least that’s the last I’ll see of this mad world!
❤ Dad’s passing HAS reminded me of my own mortality, (jeeze that’s brought a tear to my eye and lump in my throat), last week I even sensed feeling the Grim Reaper’s cold hand tap on my shoulder, whispering:
“Just to remind you Andrew, don’t feel to comfortable I’ll be visiting you one day sooon”, (he has a dark sense of humour) ok perhaps that never happened but if you’re listening Mr Reaper, I’d prefer to leave it a little while longer thank you very much!
Enough talk of bereavement, Dad has gone however I will never forget him, happy memories remain and now I should must will devote my attention to looking after my mum, but I ask you, at what point do you stop and ask yourself ‘now can I be happy knowing I’ve done enough?’ Never?
🙂 Love and cherish a parent while they’re alive because you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
You my have read my earlier Post titled ‘Could have. Should have. Would have’, a personal true story laced with honesty and sadness, however I did worry afterwards, asking myself should mental illness be only discussed, approached and written about by skilled professionals.
I’m aware there are dangers, sometimes consequences associated with writing about bullying on the internet hence today’s posting.
You may or may not have agreed with me sharing this sad tale, (please say if you sense dangers therein), perhaps the two friends weren’t wholly responsible who knows? Anyways ‘title tattle’ wasn’t the point behind my tale, I’m just regretful I didn’t ask Karen out on a date that’s all, so yes forget my actual post for a second and please dwell on my final two IMPORTANT messages namely,
“Seize the day.”
“Don’t take a silly argument tooo much to heart.”
I know! I know, two well meaning easily spoken, sometimes trite messages you’ve heard said many times before, they’re both near impossible to live by however true as true can be. So for this post I’ll concentrate on outcomes that apply whatever aged in years you may be.
Always Remember throughout your lifetimes not everyone will enjoy your company and vice versa, and perhaps never more so than at school during those emotionally intense formative years.
Thinking back to my own schooldays, turmoil and whirlwind years having been discarded mixed within a classroom of thirty plus other unique individuals, and ALL from very different backgrounds where a disciplined upbringing may not be as loving caring or structured as my own. Sitting here now, I can tell you there are two or three children I’ve so far managed to avoid meeting as adults, thankfully our paths never to have crossed again and LONG may that continue!!
There are also many more I’ve either ‘bumped’ into at the most inopportune moments, enjoyed catching up with or hope to one day, and of course there’s those contemplative moments we all have, where I’ll pause, lick my lips, think to myself’ whatever happened to tall and slender pretty Andrea Hill? (Yes her real name)
Lovely ‘truly scrumptious’ Andrea Hill one of those 5% of young ladies, serene goddesses unattainable to us other mere mortals however that’s a WHOLE other story!
So finally tying loose ends together, jeeze I sound like Jerry Springer when he imparts his final message to camera after yet another God Awful TV program, the modern day updated version of Medieval Bear Bating for a viewers entertainment.
If you experience the mother of all arguments with a friend, a bust up of monumental disastrous proportions, unquestionably irreparable however hard you try, then perhaps settle your soul knowing the relationship just wasn’t meant to be.
If this scenario ever happens, I’d suggest talk to people you trust because you have to try and move on with your life, like I said, perhaps the relationship just wasn’t meant to be 🙂 and that really is ok.
The fact Fiona used to be a Politician (in other words a professional liar) makes justice all the more sweeter 🙂 .
Once in a while and every so often, a news story amongst tens of awful tragic upsetting events you’ll read that day, this one story WILL truly lighten the heart and gladden the soul as in Fiona’s fall from grace today. Justice has seen to be done, a criminal arrest has brought about a Just conviction and we the public who daily have to listen to excuses such as:
“But I wasn’t to blame” (when they were).
Can bask in the joy that someone breaking the law, repeatedly lying to a Judge, WILL have to serve a prison sentence behind bars and young children following this ‘soap opera’ (and I know for fact one 13yr old girl WAS) will understand crime doesn’t pay, lying has consequences and you will be foundout! Haah.
I couldn’t feel happier at this moment and 99% of the British population feel the same, (except there’s always 1% of do gooders who try to spoil the fun), btw this story has nothing to do with Fiona’s ethnicity, hold that thought.)
If you live anywhere around the world other than Britain (I NO longer prefix the word Great because we’re Brexit fucked), you won’t have heard of Fiona Onasanya, the disgraced Member of Parliament for the City of Peterborough, sorry the now Ex MP for Peterborough.
This sorry story all begins several years but to bring you up to date she’d already served her one month in Prison, then after early release served a further two months tagged on her ankle at home, and bringing you up to date today the Tax paying residents for Peterborough turned out in their thousands, cast their democratic vote and deselected Fiona as their MP. Yay 😀 .
Justice has been served and I for one am gleefully unapologetically overjoyed!
Fiona lied “persistently and deliberately” to officers about who was driving her car in an attempt to avoid penalty points. (The Judge’s words in Court)
To cut a long sordid story even shorter, MP Fiona Onasanya lied to both the Police and in Court repeatedly to avoid a speeding ticket, no instead of holding her hands up ‘admitting her guilt’ paying the fine, getting on with her life because we ALL make mistakes, no instead Fiona chose say her brother was driving and all before a Jury………. he wasn’t!!
😮 And what’s more she is was a Barrister by profession, pure madness?
I’m being very fair to Fiona, I wish her no harm, but as an MP representing her Constitutants there’s no place for lying to the tax paying public, a heinous crime every parent instructs their children is wrong, where would society be if we all lied, all of the time?
Well Fiona then ‘dug her hole even deeper’, instead of stepping down she chose to remain a sitting MP whilst in Prison, continued drawing a wage which really tipped Peterborough voters over the edge into full blown apoplectic rage (you should have listened to Radio ‘phone in’s’) and there our tale ends after she refused to resign triggering a de-selection petition.
Well several days ago more than 7,000 voters signed petitions at ’10’ signing stations and Fiona was kicked out of Office, she brought about her own downfall! This solicitor could have admitted her mistake, paid the fine and all would be well in her world once the ensuing fuss had died down.
Race has no baring on my opinions, in fact if she’d been white the sentence would have been harsher of that I have NO doubt……….. and yes me gloating is an unattractive quality.
(As promised I’ve a literary historical photography post for you today, yes the Great man himself Charles Dickens.)
13th APR 2019 I day-tripped to London by bus, changed onto the Underground taking the train to visit the Home lived in by Dickens for two years of his life, years later in 1925 the home was purchased then transformed into a museum, and now a ‘time capsule‘ revealing how Victorian homes actually looked inside.
The front door of 49 Doughty Street, now entrance to the museum in Dickens time owned by solicitor Henry Pickards, is a magnificent terraced residential home only 5 minutes walk from Farringdon Tube Station, comprising three floors, a scullery kitchen basement, and also a ‘loft’ we tourists weren’t allowed to ‘peek’ inside.
Read my ticket date above, “just sayin”. The map I’m also holding is printed from the internet, a free publication describing in detail ‘walking tour’ directions from Dickens Home all the way to St. Pauls Cathedral (a British jewel of historical architecture), incidentally showing a ‘route’ considerably longer than I’d first imagined!!
Alas virtually all of Dickensian London has been lost to years of redevelopment, both progress also a consequence of rebuilding this great City after 4 years of Hitler carpet bombing homes, buildings and factories by his Luftwaffe……….. what was the point to this monstrous vandalism? You tell me, on second thoughts please don’t! The truly surprising no unbelievable fact is Christopher Wren’s St. Pauls cathedral survived intact, incredible!
(There is a reason why, long story.)
On first walking through the front door to number 48, I was under no illusion I would be staying no longer than 1 hour, Dickens little known Museum is strictly for quiet thoughtful souls who wish to experience the Victorian atmosphere knowing this great man shared meals with his wife and children, wrote tales at his desk in the drawing room, endlessly climbed three flights of stairs the entire day (two up one down) and yes made love to Catherine in the master bedroom……………….. well come on yes he did!
Belowyou see amap essential to making ‘head and tale’ of today’s post, look carefully and both a floor showing three levels including the basement, also the various rooms inside 48 Doughty Street London, incidentally I was charged a very reasonable £9 entrance fee. Enter through blue door number 49, then once inside walk through a door into number 48 their family home.
1 Entrance Hall
The busy household passed back and forth on errands and social visits. Dickens often made, sometimes nightly, walks through the City he called his ‘magic lantern’. His neighbours were professionals, architects, writer and artists. yet the law courts, workhouses and slums fuelled his writing were but a short walk away.
(Remember Dickens was both a social and prison reformer, his father had been earlier locked up in a debtors prison, and Dickens would himself demonstrate outside Newgate Prison situated a mile up the road, in fact he was instrumental in having prisoner hangings moved to behind prison walls to the public’s disappointment!)
2 Dining Room
The location and grand architecture of the house was ideal for launching Dickens socially. This elegantly curved room played a key role. As a rising author enjoying his first flush of success, he entertained many leading figures here.
Pictured above, a dining table and bowl displaying any number of ‘plastic fruit’, Dickens bust hanging from a wall, and a lovely young lady tour guide wearing a very becoming ‘black and red’ check shirt! And yes I made a point of chatting to her 🙂 because I’m very friendly that way 😛 .
Remarking “you seem very tired” as she yawned 😮 , the young lady smiling answered “yes I am”, then standing one foot on the bottom staircase, hand resting upon the banister about to climb up, I turned grinning and said “this way to the bedrooms?” Well she actually laughed out loud finding my enquiring rather amusing (or because she was Dickens bored), all good flirty fun 🙂 don’t you think? You gotta at least try and make women laugh even if SHE IS thinking ‘jeeze he’s old enough to be my father!!’ 😀
3 Morning room
Catherine Dickens used this family room to arrange household matters, spend time with the children, welcome visitors and write letters. As a Dickens travelled often, much of their daily communication was in writing. Surviving letters show their happiness as a couple then.
Stepping into the second ground floor room I’m now standing in Dickens Morning room, as I said earlier I wasn’t under any illusions, there’d only be so much to actually see wandering around someone else’s home, but standing in his writing room is quite a magical experience, standing affront Charles’ writing desk reading a page written in his own hand, knowing he possibly quill penned tales of Scrooge and Tiny Tim, Oliver Twist and Fagin, Pip and Miss Havisham possibly three of the greatest tales ever written, I truly sensed the standing on hallowed ground feeling or is that a little pretentious?
That desk sits affront a window probably because rays of natural sunlight are considerably brighter than the gas lights hanging from the morning room wall, I can attest to the rooms gloominess and the reason why my photos are slightly grainy……….. Tourists are banned from using a camera’s flash!
(Descend one flight of stairs into the kitchen.)
The servants prepared the family food here, managed by Catherine Dickens, the mistress of the house. Traders came in and out with supplies. Victorian Kitchens were often low lit, home to vermin, and filled with heat and smoke from the cook’s fire.
Above 5 photos: The ‘cast iron’ cooking range, a dresser displaying china plates, looking upwards through a window onto Doughty Street, looking back through a doorway towards the Washhouse, and glass bottles standing on a shelf.
…….. and who knows what evil chemicals they contained in Victorian times?
5 & 6 Scullery and Washhouse
The maid washed clothes and dishes here, and cleaned around the house on a demanding schedule. Dickens’s sympathetic portrayal of servants endeared him to domestic staff around the country.
7 Wine cellar
Dickens wrote about both the pleasures and harmfulness of drink. At home, he kept a good cellar to lavish his guests.
8 Drawing room
As a child, Dickens improvised performances for friends and family. As an adult, he delighted in hosting amateur theatricals. In a later home, he had a rom made into what he called ‘The smallest Theatre in the World’. From the 1850s he would take his book readings to the public stage, becoming a celebrated solo performer.
9 Dickens’s study
Dickens had a strict routine, writing without distraction from breakfast to lunch. Then he might visit his Club, work on one of his charitable projects or take a long walk. He filled this room with a vast collection of books.
Below looking out upon the rear garden, and at current London property market prices helped by number 48’s provenance, I’d suggest this home is worth 2 digit £1,000,000s?
Above two notable and extremely famous artist prints hanging from a wall, to the left Dickens a middle aged man seated in a chair. To the right the Ghost of Christmas PRESENT seated upon an enormous pile of presents, clutching a lantern of Christmas spirit in one hand, and lecturing Scrooge as to the error of his ways!
….………….then again he could reminding Scrooge that phantom number three, the grim reaper incarnate follows sooon!!
Staircase (Between First floor & Second floor)
Below, photos pointing upwards to the master bedrooms & looking back into the Drawing room.
10 Mary Hogarth’s bedroom
Dickens experienced one of the most upsetting events of his life here, the death of Catherine’s’ sister Mary Hogarth. She was s 17 years old and apparently in good health. The shock devastated the family. Dickens struggled to accept the loss of someone he considered pure and good. The sentimentality of death scenes he later wrote is rooted in that traumatic even.
11 Master bedroom
While living here, Catherine Dickens gave birth to Mary and Katy. She would go on to have 10 children by 1852. Dickens separated from Catherine in1858. But when they lived here, they were largely contented and shared this bedroom.
Pictured below, and standing beside the Master bedroom four poster bed could be Catherine Dickens herself looking out the window onto Doughty Street. On the bed you see laid out garments of period clothing, whether the stockings belong to Charles or Catherine I have no idea………… but I can tell you two of their children were conceived here, yes Victorian sexual intercourse!!
(I’ve often mused ‘did Charles visit local side streets and sample the infamous Victorian ‘two penny knee trembler? Don’t be tooo shocked upstanding fine gentlemen visit brothels!)
Hmm pictures above remind me of that ghostly little book ‘A Christmas Carol’ once again, remember a frightened Scrooge sitting upon his four poster bed, the curtains drawn around to keep the three spirits at bay, no? Well why not go read this wonderful novel and see for yourself 🙂 .
Incidentally, I read ‘A Christmas Carol’ on Christmas Eve every single year.
Pictured above, is yes a reflection of myself taking a photograph towards the dressing wardrobe mirror………… alas my youthful head of hair is a ‘long ago’ distant memory!
12 Dickens dressing room
Dickens washed, shaved and dressed here. In 1840 the historian Thomas Carlyle described Dickens as clothed fashionably rather than ‘well’. This ‘fine fellow, Boz’, he wrote loftily, has ‘clear blue intelligent eyes’ and a ‘face of the most extreme mobility’ topped with a ‘loose coil of common-coloured hair’.
13 & 14 Nursery and Servants’ bedroom
The attic was the domain of the children (Charles Junior, Mary and Katy) as well as the servants, away from the more public spaces of the house.
I didn’t take any photographs of either the Dressing room, Nursery or Servants bedroom, there’s only so much culture you can ‘snap’ in one day.
Readers to this WordPress may be aware the walk from the housing estate I live upon, through to our Town centre is by means of a tree lined Lane which later divides a grassy Common. A lovely walk in all weathers, fun when there’s snow on the ground, glorious in springtime or sunny summers days, and I even love the driving icy rain on cold Winter mornings as I walk to work!
Below you’ll see photos of wild ‘Bluebells’ growing alongside the Lane’s pathway, they looked beautiful bathed in this evening’s dimming low sun, so I ‘snapped’ a selection of photos below adding three of our family pet dog taken Easter Bank Holiday weekend.
(Regular readers to this WordPress will be aware I would never ever EVER! Make fun of a woman for a readers pleasure, no most definitely not. Yes at times I can be err a little out there 🙄, but just be aware I adore these mesmerisingly delectable creatures, and note I’ve spared the reader of actual photographs, 😊 and I’d guess you’ll be thankful for that!!)
One of the saddest true stories I could share with this WordPress involves a girl, a 17 year old girl I used to attend secondary school with many years ago, her name is Karen (for this post) and NO this isn’t one of my tales of an adult nature.
Karen was rather short with wide hips though not overweight, and far from being a plain girl she was attractive and unremarkable and I don’t mean that in a nasty way, 95% of the population are unremarkable and average looking, I am you are, what I’m trying to say is if life had turned out differently, Karen with her blondish hair may well have worked in a Bank like her mother, married say an electrician, their destiny to birth two children own a dog and live happily ever after on some middle England housing estate.
One November afternoon inside the top floor bedroom of Helen’s London flat, the curtains drawn in the middle of the day, the quiet hum of traffic outside, a smell of burning incense, candles lighting our room and me with only one thought upon my mind!