I’d suggest the very favourite posting written on your Blog changes by the day/week (or perhaps you ‘publish’ and hardly ever give them a second thought). I’ve recently discovered the Widget ‘Popular Posts’ and added to my homepage (it’s only taken me 2 years to find and I love it) Lovely WordPress appears to update by the hour and it’s a snapshot of the content people are reading on your Blog…. hmm very interesting. My own appears to be 70% vanilla sexy related, that’s fabulous and fine (anyone who reads my Posts thank you) but I’d hope to think I’m more than just frivolity…… 🙂 not to worry we’re all having fun here. I’m going to re-blog my very favourite posting the heart-breaking true story of Czeslawa Kwoka who died age 14 in Auschwitz concentration camp, and only weeks after the SS murdered her mother there. One of my favourites from 289 and I’m not ashamed to say her story made me cry the evening I wrote it…….. a reminder of the hateful times we live in.
A reflective Post this evening, makes a welcome change and good or bad I can guarantee my blog will never be one theme, I’ve enjoyed writing this 🙂 .
I look at Czesława Kwoka’s Auschwitz registration photograph time and time again, her haunting expression isn’t unique, the many other prisoner photos being colourised so magnificently are equally as haunting and devoid of ALL human emotion.
I look at her, and I wish I could do this post justice, convey how I’ve been feeling whilst reading her true horror story. However I fear I don’t have the breadth of descriptive language and yes I think I lack an ability to convey the upsetting emotions I’m feeling…………. I’ll write you humorous posts all day long of tales sleeping with women BUT serious issues I struggle with and that makes me very angry. And for once I break copyrighted photographs legally, Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum…
(My argument for today and final Posting for the foreseeable 🙂 . Allow this virus to take its natural course because suppression will have awful social consequences, it’ll then be over by Autumn and the survivors will have a herd immunity, yep survival of the fittest and if you’re curious I have epilepsy so lol I’m well and truly f#cked 😀 !!! Some readers may be offended feel free to disagree. Peace and love ❤ )
(Extract taken from ‘The Origin of Species’ written by Charles Darwin 🙂 )
“Why should Doctors and Nurses be the ONLY people in society risking their lives? Isn’t that a selfish way to live your own life? EACH and EVERY one of you should be exposing yourselves to this Virus every day, taking the exact same risks healthcare workers do, and unfortunately if YOU become infected then ‘C’est la vie’ your struggle for existence may soon be at an end.
You’re all adults you all should have realised by now life is UNFAIR, so take a deep breath, walk out of your home every morning, live your life the best you can, wash your hands, wear a mask, social distance from your fellow human beings, don’t bitch and moan about your lot, be nice to people and if the virus infects and you fall ill, you never know you just might be one of the 96% who survive to live another day!
I once coined the phrase survival of the fittest, the strongest live while the weakest die, Laws of Nature applying to every bird fish animal or organism on planet earth, so if you fall ill and corona virus kills you, like I said life’s a bitch and today just wasn’t to be your lucky day.
Don’t MAKE doctors and nurses the only one’s to risk their lives, stop being selfish and go risk your own!…… Blacksmiths, Serving ‘wenches’, Stonemasons, Candle wick makers, Prostitutes, Stagecoach drivers and other essential occupations included 😀 .”
So what to make of today’s Title? To begin with 4 of my past 5 postings have all been corona virus themed, I’ve enjoyed the creative writing process however 4 is quite enough for the present. Not to worry, I’ve revisited my draft postings and blown the dust off this masterpiece languishing unloved and unpublished! It’s politically incorrect (if not darned right illegal) and morally questionable, out of synque with present day social distancing regulations (a frigging understatement if there ever was one!) but I’ve decided to publish (yeh Andrew keep calling yourself a writer) and be damned…. now I’ll quit apologising and allow you to decide if selling your ass for money could ever be considered acceptable.
We’re all prostitutes of a sort, we can all be bought if the price is high enough, can’t we?
Note this posting isn’t a movie review however it is an Indecent Proposal!
I’m going to pose a rather delicate question, however hold on before scrolling down to take a peek.
Do you remember the motion picture ‘Indecent Proposal’ starring the fabulous Woody Harlesden, sexy Demi Moore and screen icon Robert Redford. The premise of the film is Woody and Demi, a young beautiful hipster couple are truly madly deeply in love, besotted with each other, just understand if you’ve never watched the film, the movie’s narrative never stops reminding you Woody and Demi have discovered their soul mates…… yes each other.
Forgot to mention they’re newly married.
Now for the plot twist, into this highly watchable tale appears the cool and charismatic Robert Redford, still to this day one of the most beautiful of men to have starred on the silver screen. Well to cut a long story short (and I ain’t gonna worry about giving away spoilers, Indecent Proposal was released in 1993 for heavens sake!) Robert Redford falls for Demi’s character and why an earth wouldn’t he, a combination of both carnal lust and a long distant memory of a similar lady he once loved, Redford offers the two lovers an indecent proposal of one million dollars for ONE night in bed with Demi……. do I really have to detail the sex scene in their Hotel room? No lol.
Ok Redford #@&^%$ Demi and they fell in love……. why wouldn’t she? And how dumb was Woody?
So now I pose the question, and just be aware I’m pathologically obsessed with this moral dilemma, wouldn’t you agree everyone has a monetary price for a night’s passion with their partner? Don’t they? Many couples allow their partner ‘a gimme’, you know a sexy movie actor/actress they’d begrudgingly happily allow them to sleep with, an amusing hypothetical game which will never be tested in Court.
But returning to my indecent proposal, can you envisage a price for a night’s passion with your partner? If the relationship is on the cusp of divorce then the answer’s easy, take the money, divide two ways and run, however if you’re deeply in love with your betrothed possibly sharing children, would you say “no sum is large enough”, or would you sell a night’s passion with your wife or husband if only for a new house car and spending money!
Like I said this conundrum often crosses my mind when say sitting in a train station’s waiting room, two lovers walk past holding hands wander past and I muse ‘would they?’…………… Well you’ve got to keep an imagination busy when bored out your brains!
Now for a (really) Indecent Proposal.
Ok let’s take my narrative one step further, in a creepier weirdo direction. Remember my previous post Yoga Pants (true) story, imagine yourself for a second walking a path dividing a grassy green common alone, oh and you’re a WOMAN! When all of a sudden a rather well dressed guy appears beside you, the pair of you began chatting about the nice weather you’ve been enjoying or the like, you trust any motives, the banter’s friendly making you feel comfortable and at ease, then the pervert rascal asks you “how much money to squeeze your ass cheeks Miss?”
Holy crap what do you say?
Bearing in mind your two hands are laden down by grocery carrier bags meaning you cannot smack him round the cheeks, you know, drop the bags smashing the eggs and jam jars. Well after the initial shock passes and you didn’t feel particularly threatened (ok just run with my creepy proposal… and I know you’re unconvinced), the friendly conversation continues if a little nervously, that’s until he offers you that indecent proposal!
(The woman is offered £20)…….. “you can #%& off!”
£30 ………..‘where’s a policeman when I need one’
£40 ………. ‘is he for real?’
£50 ………. ‘I think he’s for real’
£60 ……….‘well the daughter does need new shoes’
£70 ………. ‘ok I’m interested’………. ‘but how much higher will he go?’
£80 ……….‘I can’t believe I’m tempted’
£90 ……….‘omg the wallet’s out of his pocket!’
Would you glance around to see if anyone’s watching, swiftly accept the money and whisper,
“Go on… get behind me…. you can squeeze my ass cheeks…… but nothing more mind!!”
Lol where’s the problem? Who’s to know? And by this point you’ll have guessed I’m convinced every woman will prostitute herself agree to be propositioned if the amount is large enough…….. and before you say,
“No guy would pay £100 to touch my ass”,
You’d be surprised, male fantasies and fetishes have no limits, trust me there are men who’d pay for the thrill of squeezing a married woman’s buttocks, sleep with her for £1000s even but I’m not going there, sexual prostitution’s a whole different Posting!
Short story Fiction and please allow me a little credit 🙂 .
Anyways, here’s my (very) amateurish attempt at writing a fictional tale……… and if you absolutely must leave the home? Remember to keep your distance from fellow human beings, I know it’s difficult but far from impossible, like you all I’m trying 🙂 .
I’ll admit to feeling a touch sexually excited, I’ve just returned home from the High Street with a pint of milk in hand, purchasing a little food because I refuse to panic buy and hoard. To my credit I observed a walking distance from others, but one has to make dry porridge oats at least taste palatable. Such are the chaotic times we live in, today it’s a simple joy to stretch my legs and feel the warmth of a spring morning sun upon my face, and who knows? Perhaps today will be my final walk in the sunshine for a while as Britain’s lockdown bites!
Gotta keep positive.
Yesterday evening I felt very down and depressed, but seeing a few happy smiling faces wandering around the Market Square quite cheered me up, btw to a person laden down with carrier bags of non perishable groceries however I will never point a scolding finger, such are the uncertain times we live in I’ve been guilty of a little hoarding as the rest of you, we human’s are anxious creatures and storing pantry food is a way of gaining back control……… perhaps we’re closer to lazy hibernating hedgehogs than we’d care to admit?
Oh yes I’m feeling a touch sexually excited! Truth be told considerably more than a touch because for the past fifteen minutes my jean’s crotch has been near bursting at its seams, penis tingling sensations pulsing along a shaft making it as hard as hard can be, and if you’re curious sporting the mother of all erections to such an extent I could hardly walk!
Having just purchased milk to keep me going over this weekend, a versatile staple food with so many culinary permutations, quite by chance I happened to be tailing two young women. lol keeping two metres to their rears as you should do 😛 ! Two care free happy girls also returning with their delicious booty. (Age appropriate which goes without saying!) Both slim figured slender and tall which is just how I fantasise them, one wore a bottom covering winter jacket, the other a salmon coloured jersey with black skin tight Yoga Pants, inadequate figure hugging material now shimmering against the low sunlight and you wish to know more? Her willowy toned legs were so smooth in appearance they just might have been spray painted black, and I mused! Oh yes I mused ‘how much to squeeze those ‘two buns’ Miss?’
But I cannot! I mean I wouldn’t cause you gotta remember to social distance at all times, and phew just so as you know I never have done nor ever will!……. Gotta get that one out!
(However doesn’t very woman attach a price on her body? A monetary value ‘slapped’ on her ass however prim and proper she may be, or how desperately she’s in need of cash, hmm so how much would she have charged to let me squeeze…… just sayin! 😀 Btw grasp this thought, I just may revisit my contentious ‘if illegal’ indecent proposal.)
Mesmerised I was! The sideways displacement of her child bearing hips a joy to behold, two plump round buttock cheeks quivering in time to each walking pace as only a female human can do, and gazing ever deeper into her pert round ass, bright sunlight illuminated the tenuously thin material to such an extent the Yoga Pants appeared translucent. Yes I could just see a hint of milky white skin through this unbelievably erotic garment, a G-string in place of panties her ass betraying a glorious feminine sexuality………. omg I couldn’t overt my gaze for ONE WHOLE quarter an hour!
And if you’re curious she didn’t once glance behind to see who was following, anyways even if she had, and noticed my pint of milk she’d assume I’d been grocery shopping the same as everyone else. Today I had intended to write a fourth corona virus themed post on the trot, yes more comment may well follow but I just had to take a break, forget about this awful viral catastrophe and mused why not lighten the mood sharing a sexy tale.
Even within these depressing times it’s funny how the sight of a pretty girl’s wobbly ass cheeks still brings a smile to my face, a little joy to my heart, uplifting jaded spirits and reminding me it’s the simple pleasures in life that make life worth living.
And finally, if you really must leave your homes remember to socially distance! Now I must do something about this damned rock hard erection……. any ideas please?
One final word writing, Blogging, dreaming of trim asses keeps me sane!
I hope you’re coping well under the circumstances 🙂 …… believe it or not I am still commuting to work, yep here in the UK my employer is yet to close our University Department. Why so Andrew? God only knows but we’re hoping they have a cunning plan, either that or they’re waiting for Governmental edicts to trickle down instructing us what to do, or more’s the truth management are as bewildered as the rest of us? Who knows, but these are unpredictable uncertain times, the new world order is forget the past and understand pragmatism is the new word to live by, coping with problems sensibly and realistically, a heightened mindset my Grandparents lived by during World War 2.
Yes a rather very trite analogy but what else can I say? 🙂 ……. Anyways my apologies if this sunny disposition pissed you off.
(Oh and switch off that blessed TV news.)
Early Monday morning the above email popped into my Inbox, turns out barely 50metres away from our workshop someone tested positive for COVID-19! Apparently the unnamed academic felt unwell over the weekend, had themselves tested, informed The University then did the intelligent thing and self isolated. The amusing consequence being everyone I bumped into for the rest of the day either laughed a:
“Did you hear the news? I guess that means we’re all @%&£*# then!”
Or some such similar less profane response from the women (adorable creatures), but interestingly to a person NO ONE panicked, there was to be NO running around screaming in floods of tears, nope everyone just went about their normal duties though almost certainly a little more thoughtfully………. yep a positive test in the next building along certainly sharpens the imagination!
Perhaps we’re all a touch more well prepared for bad news in Oxford, nervous stoicism being the watch-phrase, you see my University city known the world over is alas a Corona Virus ‘hotspot’, the national statistics don’t lie, the coloured maps the TV love showing tell us what we already know, thousands of foreign students study at Oxford and no fewer than 30 foreign Nationals on our Group alone, we’re well aware carriers walk these city’s streets of dreaming spires and who knows how this one’s going to play out over the coming days, we thought Twenty First Century was fast paced well the new world order will be even quicker still, hopefully I’ll be mentally strong enough to cope.
If you want my personal opinion, and thanks for asking, I’m more convinced than ever after having watched this past week’s awful news stories, it’s the News Broadcasters who are panicking and the British public who are coping relatively well (that’ll change), anyways look after one another.
Early days and I’m enjoying reading all your Blogs 🙂 . x
Today’s post is a Link to a fascinating and beautifully written article, no don’t disappear there’s photos as well! I’m hoping this share from ‘The Daily Telegraph’ website will play in overseas territories, incidentally The Telegraph is a quality UK newspaper……. if a touch Right Wing lol.
Photos by Simon Townsley.
Had enough of fake news and scare stories? I’ve a factual article which may interest you 🙂 .
A true tale following a group scientists on a trek into the rain forest’s of deepest darkest Africa, northern Sierra Leone to be more exact, sparsely populated and little visited, very few remote regions such as these exist on planet Earth. These band of brave men and women are searching for something called ‘Disease X’, an as yet undiscovered pathogen with the potential to spark a pandemic, and what are they searching for in Sierra Leone jungles? Bats! Warm blooded mammals also carriers of some of the deadliest viruses on the planet, many are unknown, several such a Ebola and Corona have killed thousands upon thousands of humans, and in the jungle may lurk the one disease that could………….., with thoughts of Corona virus on my mind (I’m quite worried now) I discovered this article and decided to (hopefully) share.
Immensely readable and of course highly topical, ‘Virus hunters’ makes plain that as man encroaches ever deeper into remote jungles, almost certainly another virus could jump species the very moment a bat sinks its bloody fangs into a human being…. the warning is there are places where human beings must never go.
Pictured below you see empty toilet roll shelves in my local ‘Waitrose’, have you noticed the guy looking in my direction? I’d describe him as an interested spectator watching me taking photographs earlier this afternoon, funnier still a minute or so earlier, he’d ALSO been photographing these same empty supermarket shelves!
Rather self consciously I pocketed my smart phone, carried on walking, moments later pausing to exchange a perplexed friendly comment, then he said,
Guy with the bald head: “These empty shelves, is it because of the corona virus?”
Me: “I think so…. people appear to be panic buying.”
Guy with the bald head: “Utterly bizarre!”
Me: “Yes… I couldn’t agree more.”
…………. and with that, the two of us grinning men went our separate ways to continue an evening’s grocery shopping.
I’ve a suggestion use newspapers in place of toilet roll as my great grandparents would have done, cut out photos of Donald Trump and Boris Johnson and take great pleasure and satisfaction using them to wipe your ass!
Am I missing something? Has a News story passed me by saying the world’s toilet roll producing factories are closing down? That there’s a global shortage of carboard tubing used to bind tissue paper around? Could it be when you catch Corona Virus one of the symptoms is uncontrollable diarrhea?
If you know the answer please do tell 🙂 .
I am genuinely dumbstruck, face masks and bottles of disinfectant yes, but switch on your TV, or read your browser’s News feed and whether you live in London New York or Florence Italy, the world’s Supermarket shelves are emptying of toilet loo rolls.
Panic buying makes me angry, a distasteful spectacle of human being’s at their most ugly, displays of greed and selfishness, the hoarding of food and a total lack of respect for others. For goodness sake we have an abundance of groceries and there’s plenty enough for everyone, I’d guess one News outlet filmed an empty toilet roll shelf, people rushed to their Supermarkets, a snowball effect ensued and before you know it there’s a worldwide retail shortage of toilet rolls.
Are we witnessing globalisation at its most terrifying, a shortage in ONE retail outlet triggering a global rush for food clothing petrol whatever, or is this an evolutionary throwback to dinosaur times, when berries growing on trees came into season and bountiful and cavemen felt the sudden urge to forage for food, collect hoard and store fruit before a diplodocus hoovered them up from the forest floor.
I have to agree with my bald headed Supermarket friend, “utterly bizarre!”
(So how to make sense of today’s posting? Hopefully it’s a fun read and will alter any preconceptions you may already have.)
I hope you’re having a lovely Sunday…… might spring have arrived early?
Am I guilty of being a life loser? Or a guy with a healthy interest in social media and (within reason) most topics internet related? You decide 🙂 , oh and with a healthy respect of women which GOES without saying, incidentally the beautiful strawberry blonde below just might be named ‘Sasha’?
I agree a touch long and not for everyone but I enjoyed writing this, hmm might I be on the cusp of my first ever addiction?……… You gotta agree she has fabulous boobs!
If I’m at a loose end, bored of surfing the net or organising my online finances, more ‘not than often’ I turn to an adult online chatline called and yes I will name the site, called ‘Chatbate’. Not that original bringing together the two words ‘Chat’ and ‘bate’ as in masturbate. BUT note I never do, I’ll never visit the private chatroom of an attractive lady to kneel in front of my laptop screen jerking off. Nope never ever happens, honest!
BTW if you are curious each token’s worth £0.08.
So judge me for admitting such a heinous blasphemy and alas I never tip them money in the form of tokens, I’m a little guilty about that, I guess I’m what’s known as a freeloader, you know watching a woman undress for free…… I would though, then I read chatbates terms and conditions, holy blank they were scary reading, long story short you basically handover your email address also bank details to a Californian porn company, leaving them to share the info with god knows who…. Russian gangsters?….. Nope not going to happen even though there is one certain young lady I’d love to tip, but the financial risk aint worth it.
I’m genuinely a touch dejected about that.
I guess I fit the profile of lonely middle aged man, and my retort would be so what, Chatbate is legal and regulated, user friendly for over 18year olds, morally acceptable in content with friendly conversation I’d liken tooo blogging…….. oh not forgetting, separate Rooms of women young and old, hustling to make a little money and that’s ok lol.
Knowing what I do of the sex industry many ladies will be sole breadwinners, many will have young children, there’ll be no glittering academic education with not so many employable skills. So what do they do to make money? They rent a chatroom fitted with streamed webcam, and do whatever they feel comfortable with AND always abiding by legally regulated house rules, ie nothing that breaks law such as consuming drink no drugs, no children present, no penetrative sex, no animals etc…….
In other words all good clean fun where all parties understand that fun is making money, the dictionary definition of hustle. You ARE hustling for a living, I am, so are they, so is everyone.
I’m the last man to pass a scolding opinion, these global ladies are hustling earning money to live and pay the bills, students to pay grants, and I guess their consumers are lonely middle aged guys who enjoy conversing (via chatlogs) with women and friendships are formed, with engaging witty female conversationalists earning good sometimes fantastic money, the bigger the outgoing personality, exponentially the more they’ll earn and if they do get some asshole chiming in with disgusting comments then all she has to do is kick him out and they do!
Oh and they have to remember men are watching as they remove items of clothing….. yep they’ll be jacking off….. and that’s ok….. I guess lol.
Talking of stripping, you readers maybe wonder what ‘activities’ do the online women actually get up to? Invariably they have a menus of do’s, beginning with several pre-purchased tokens for a smile, several thousands more for a masturbation show, with reasonable amounts in-between for the removal of bras or panties. Then again, some ladies are strictly tease only without removing underwear, perhaps only bra flashing or showing their ass wearing panties to the camera…….. men cannot ask direct requests, and the women cannot ‘badger’ men into handing over money I guess both scenarios are classed as bullying and or extorsion… like I said all legally regulated vanilla fun between consenting adults.
I don’t sit and gaze at these women hour after hour, no read an earlier post for frigs sake, I’m out 12 hours a day working for a living, but yes when home, making tea, and if a certain young lady is working yes I’ll watch her from my laptop afront the microwave oven, not religiously mind you. ‘Sasha’ has a Bio which reads she’s age 23 living in Eastern Europe and you have to agree is an absolutely stunning young woman, she answer’s questions from the attendees in her room, ‘giggles’ and smiles a lot, is very engaging with a warm personality and an all round lovely lady, nothing seedy mind you, her chosen occupation is to work 4 hours a day hustling for money but just differently to the rest of us, oh and reading the chat log which can be highly entertaining reading! Then every so often a guy will pay a considerable amount of money for a bra off, or even more to take her into Private chat, the screen goes blank black for ten minutes where I guess she strips off her sexy underwear and performs a full female masturbation show for his enjoyment…….. and who knows if the guy’s jerking off….. my guess is yes….. and why wouldn’t he?
I guess all I’m saying is, these women aren’t morally bankrupt, agreed?
So judge me, lol the choice is watching YouTube videos and reading blogs while I wash the dishes lol, I don’t watch TV News and time to time I occasionally gaze at lovely ‘Sasha’ from Eastern Europe laying on her bed removing wearing sexy underwear, perhaps once in a while revealing a shaved kitty or removing her bra for a minute or so…….. I guess the skill is NOT to become emotionally attached to a fantasy for we human’s have inherent addictive personalities, whether drink drugs tobacco or idealised women, I can see scenarios where guys fall in love with these ladies hustling for a living.
Nope addiction won’t ever happen to me.
Incidentally and if you’re at all interested, I never watch pornography, the sight of actors copulating disgusts and bores me to frigging tears……… in-fact pornsites should be banned from the web if only because children access them.
So my question is… if pushed would you be happy to strip naked for money?
Tagged #Just For Fun and #sex-education info with no… and I do mean NO accompanying dick selfies, that’s just plain disgusting and just so as you know I’ve never texted one in my life nor ever will.
Regular readers to this WordPress just might remember a recent Birthday post, lol probably not, well one particular phrase has been ‘pricking’ my imagination ever since…..
“But I can still achieve an erection so ‘phew’ life’s not all bad.”
……… so I guess that makes this evening’s a prompted response? Incidentally pictured below a cartoon lifted from the net……. made me smile, 🙂
A question for you, do dick jokes make you laugh? If the answer’s yes, I’ve 3 Male erection jokes lifted from the internet and hopefully you’ll find them as amusing as I did 🙂… though keep in mind I’ve the sense of humour of a 13year old, but then haven’t all men?
1: The Priest and the Nun
A Nun and a Priest were crossing the Sahara desert on a camel. On the third day out, the camel suddenly dropped dead without warning.
After dusting themselves off, the Nun and the Priest surveyed their situation and after a long period of silence, the Priest spoke:
‘Well, Sister, this looks pretty grim.’ ‘I know, Father. In fact, I don’t think it likely that we can survive more than a day or two..’ ‘I agree,’ says the Father. ‘Sister, since we are unlikely to make it out of here alive, would you do something for me?’ ‘Anything, Father.’ ‘I have never seen a woman’s breasts and I was wondering if I might see yours.’ ‘Well, under the circumstances I don’t see that would do any harm.’
The Nun opened her habit and the Priest enjoyed the sight of her shapely breasts, commenting frequently on their beauty:
‘Father, could I ask something of you?’ ‘Yes, Sister?’ ‘I have never seen a man’s penis. Could I see yours?’ ‘I suppose that would be OK,’ the Priest replied, lifted his robe, and almost immediately he was sporting a huge erection. ‘Sister, you know that if I insert this in the right place, it can breath new life!’ ‘Is that true Father?’ ‘Yes, it is, Sister.’ ‘Oh Father, that’s wonderful … now stick it in our camel and let’s get the fuck out of here!’
2: A man goes to the Doctor for a prostate exam.
The Doctor puts on his rubber glove and asks the man to bend over, he inserts a finger in his ass and begins the checkup.
After a minute or so the doctor says, “Don’t worry, it’s very normal to get an erection during this exam.”
A little confused, the man turned and replied, “But I don’t have an erection?”
Doctor. “Yeh I know… but I do!”
3: Two guys standing on the end of a pier, peeing.
“Man that water’s cold.”
“Sure is — deep, too.”
All very tame reading, anyways they made me laugh and I did enjoy the Nun and Priest story.
So before reading this evening’s posting, tell me honestly could you explain the biological mechanics to a guy achieving an erection? Well truthfully I couldn’t have, still at the age of 54 my erect penis is as hard as a rod of iron, and being serious fo a second I thank the Lord I’m still able to get it up……… omg I cannot imagine the mental anguish and emotional suffering erectile dysfunction brings to a marraige, I’m not fooling around, any medical condition is awful and truly upsetting fot those concerned 😦 .
What IS an Erection? An erection starts in your brain. Something you saw, felt, smelled, heard, or thought makes your nerves send chemical messages to the blood vessels in your penis. The arteries relax and open up to let more blood flow in; at the same time, the veins close up. Once blood is in the penis, pressure traps it within the corpora cavernosa. Your penis expands and holds the erection. When the inflow of blood stops and the veins open, your penis becomes soft.
Having never used a cock ring in my life before, I’d suggest the point to this sex-aid will be trapping blood within the penis thereby holding his erection, and then I guess you can enjoy sexual relations to your heart’s content? Or until the kitty feels chafed and a little sore?
……. and again tell me honestly, did you know the biological definition of Ejaculation? I didn’t before this evening, I’d suggest we’ve either been on the receiving end of one, or have masturbated since being small children and just so as you know I jack off no more than three times a week, which according to the internet is about a guy’s average, the regularity dependant on whether our secretary at work flashes her right boob in my direction. I nearly ejaculated right in middle of a Group meeting for heaven’s sake!
What IS an Ejaculation? When you’re aroused, tubes called the vas deferens squeeze sperm from the testes toward the back of the urethra. The seminal vesicles also release fluid there. The urethra senses the sperm and fluid mixture. Then, at the height of sexual excitement, it sends signals to your spinal cord, which in turn sends signals to the muscles at the base of your penis. These contract powerfully and quickly, every 0.8 seconds. This forces the semen out of the penis as you climax.
Women reveal on Twitter, they’ve had a frigging enough of men sending dick pictures, they’re neither fun or funny, more to the point disgusting enough to make them gag, and the act of texting is both sinister and predatory…. like I said, just so as you know I’ve never sent one in my life.
So what of me? And regular readers to this WordPress will know I love talking about meee. Well seeing as you’re interested thank the Lord I’ve never had trouble achieving or maintaining an erection, btw 160mm is above average and we all know how size matters to us men, we’re very insecure when discussing our penis lengths, and like I’ve said before I’m a 5 minute ride to copulation kinda guy, any thoughts of maintaining my hardness for 2 hour marathon sex sessions are a complete anathema, perhaps I should buy a cock ring?
Nah I’ll give rubber devices a miss.
A jewel of inspirirational thought ‘hit me’ around about my Birthday, perhaps not the momentous awful day itself, anyways there I was standing beneath a hot steaming shower, as hot as I can physically bare, and I can picture myself now gazing down at my flaccid softened penis and saying to myself ‘omg you are over 50 years old!’ And yes we men do refer to our dicks as third party, now that’s a fair old age for such an important organ, over half a century we’ve been joined together and lol like I keep reaffirming, thank God the old man still works!
If ‘he’ no longer ejaculated, I’d honestly be beside myself with grief after enjoying a lifetime’s orgasmic pleasure, and still to this day I’m impressed by the visual display, watching it harden before my incredulous gaze, and the speed of erection never fails to astonish me, quite literally watching blood engorge from 50mm-160mm in less than 3 seconds is nothing short of amazing, and they harden at most inopportune sometimes embarrassing times, jeeze the tricks nature plays can be simply breathtaking.
Talking of the women I have slept with (and you can read many a true tale here on my blog) my erect penis has never reduced a woman to laughter, when dropping my boxers I always make a point of watching her face, hoping for a reaction, perhaps a shy lick of the lips soon followed by warm palms working their magic on my member, stoking fondling rolling dextrous fingers around the bellend, and from my experience women very nearly love my erection as much as I do. Incredibly I’ve never had to ask a woman to take me in her mouth but then does any man? Hmm that always appears to be a voluntary reaction on seeing a penis she likes… because believe me when I say size matters!
AND thankfully women cannot talk when their mouth’s are full! 😀
Haha that’s quite enough silliness for one blog post, I was about to wax lyrical on the joy’s of penetration but I’ll leave that ‘masterpiece’ for another day……. yep in conclusion I do still love my erect penis 😊.
………….and finally to the British comedian Billy Connolly’s thoughts on getting old, “never ever waste an erection.”
So what’s your preferred length of erection? Discuss 😉 .
The reason for this post is? Thinking aloud that’s all, idle thoughts🙂…… I’m neither whinging or feeling sorry for myself, employment is my choice to make and I know how lucky I really am.
Now just so as you know I’m NOT complaining, ok! I’m one of the lucky few to be in full time secure employment, for now, let’s see what horrors Brexit hopefully doesn’t have in store because, well there are good reasons why high European import taxes may effect my employer’s profitability, perhaps Brexit uncertainty is the reason for my unhappiness or perhaps there are darker reasons? Anyways that’s enough introspection for present…. perhaps there’ll be further thoughts to follow.
I awake every weekday morning at 5.45am, I battle a commuter 45minute bus journey to work, then work from 7.30am to 4.30pm, come late afternoon I battle an even longer return commuter journey home, only to walk through my front door at 5.30 evening time……. lol the same routine 40 weeks a year as I have done since age 16 years, but like I said I’m so very fortunate because a great many people don’t have paid employment and I’m FOREVER reminding myself how lucky I really am, but 16-54 years for heaven’s sake 😀 perhaps I should have changed carreers at age 30? Perhaps I’d be happier if I was married, then again blogger Skinny and Single said to me, “be careful what you wish for”.
Two videos this evening, me operating a metal turning lathe another featuring my workbench, the very same bench I first stood before 10 lol years ago.
Incidentally I’m NOT complaining, I enjoy my job and the 12 hours of my life everyday is worth it, pay’s the bills…… but what’s life all about, I mean what an earth is the meaning of life? I guess love your family also as much sex as you can find seems about right.
After re reading, the word ‘perhaps’ doesn’t half feature a lot, night all.
“And here’s me thinking I knew everything there was to know about women’s fashion….. turn’s out I didn’t”
I have a female breast tale for you this evening and if you’ve not read this blog before you won’t know of my (healthy) breast obsession, oh how I adore those warm squidgy bundles of fun ❤️.
As god is my witness, until researching this evening’s photos the phrase ‘button down boob gap’ was unknown to me, and here’s me assuming I knew everything there was to know about knickers bras and ladies lingerie, I’m a man of the world so how on earth did this phrase pass me by? For heaven’s sake there’s even a YouTube sewing video teaching women the tricks to avoiding this dreaded ‘peek-a-boob’ gap, and I’d suggest when a lady’s dressing of a morning or trying on a new blouse in a fashion shop fitting room, one thought will be on her mind….. ‘this blouse isn’t working you can still see my bra. ‘
Or for the more outspoken female readers amongst you….. ‘WTF! MY TITS ARE SHOWING!’
The organisation I’m employed by has a new female employee, a lovely lady what’s more she suffers from a delightful busty girl problem, jeeze how much personal detail can I divulge without landing me in hot water, just imagine the hoo-hah this post could create if heaven forbid she actually read it!
Oh well not to worry ‘in for a penny in for a pound’ as they say….
I’ll be completely honest with you dear readers, the lady I’m about to describe just might not bare resemblance to our lady at work, many people to their cost upload info onto the internet, fail to forget those ghosts and lurkers reading your blog might well know you in person…….. oh yes! So with anonymity clearly in mind hopefully my co-worker wouldn’t couldn’t recognise herself, now there’s a satisfying conceit if she suspected.
So let’s begin, 9.00am prompt last Friday morning, seated around an expansive meeting room table picture an assortment of professional men and women ranging from age 23-65, quite a demographic spread with the majority a male orientation, incidentally there’s a fair few cross dressing ‘trans people’ floating around our department but that’s a whole different blog post……. without googling does trans mean they’ve had their testicles removed? Or would that be transvestite?… God knows I’m too old to care.
Keep on message Andrew. You need to appreciate these weekly conferences are sooo boring, attendance is compulsory and so we’re told ‘essential’ but the jury’s out and I’m still to be convinced. Just so as you know, this table I’d liken to Christ’s final supper with the important Holy One keeping this tiresome charade in track. Now for the sex interest, seated to our messiah’s left sits his trusting secretary and just so as you know I’m in turn seated at right angles to this age 50 lady…… picture the scene, common you can work it out!
I’m an extra within this tiresome pantomime, my place is listen not to speak and mentally take notes for the following weeks tasks, so there I sat reclining back in my cushioned chair, facing the Holy One but three metres away, then omg several minutes in my attention’s suddenly drawn to our secretary’s ample bosom, a fine looking woman let’s call Clementine shall we. The first fleeting thrill of a Friday morning is her entrance for she wears age appropriate short dresses in summer, pleated skirts and sheer black stockings in winter, and believe me the penis anticipates her choice of hemline, now here’s a thought how many others are dreaming of sexual relations with sweet Clementine?
Absentmindedly listening to these lovely yet rather self important individuals is boring, but realising there’s a subplot, people vying for good favour can be entertaining and oh yes there’s plenty of bs! I invariably spend the entire meeting quietly people watching for if truth be told my presence is invisible to these intellectual superstars. Hopefully unaware, my eyes darted around the room often returning to gaze at Clementine’s bosom, a busty lady today wearing a buttercup yellow ‘button down blouse’ and floral skirt…… I’ve changed the colours but lol you guessed that anyway.
Studiously writing and scribbling down notes, a concentrated gaze never broken from her sheet paper minutes, time to time Clementine paused all the while listening intently to God’s weary sermon, she’d look up, then recline again to her prim up-right position, and omg it’s then I noticed as this lady’s blouse floated back and forth, a gaping hole appeared between the blouse buttons shrouding her bosom……. that caught my attention I can tell you!
Jeeze, I’d sell my soul for a squeeze and suck of her tits.
Now, I’m safe in the knowledge this lady’s most important weekly task is to take notes then later disseminate via email to present attendees, I’m safe then, she’s now dutifully employed and I’m captivated watching her large at a guess DD breasts, btw a fantasy induced wet dream of mine is to bend her over that table, pull her knickers down and thrust my penis from behind, but again that’s a whole other blog post.
Just so as you know I’m safe in the knowledge Clementine’s unfazed by my wicked attention, with breasted torso rocking back and forth, a small window would appear revealing yes her right breast, a pale pink blush in colour nestling within a padded half cup of white fabric, delicately cushioned, absent of frilly lace and a little grey having seen the inside of many a washing machine tub.
Yes Clementine this Friday morning suffered a wardrobe malfunction created by a combination of faulty blouse design and very large tits, massive boobs that today naturally separated resting to Clem’s sides and a half cup bra that was at a guess a touch tooo loosely fitting, ‘omg’ I thought to my self.. ‘ you’re showing an awful lot of skin’…. definitely not a Wonderbra.
My penis hardened regularly last Friday morning half gazing through Clementine’s button down boob gap, incidentally throughout my lifetime a vision I’ve clocked many occasions before, and I’m wondering now whether I’ll watch her erotic clothing performance ever again. For twenty minutes I half gazed at her right curvacious boob, half expecting a nipple areola to appear, I’m telling you now I was half expecting a rim of chocolate brown to pop out, my guess is yes, from my experience big breasted women with pendulous drooping breasts empty if milk after suckling several babies are expansive and brown, yep my educated knowledge tells me Clem’s areola wasn’t far off from revealing a nip slip….. oh well perhaps that joyous experience reveals itself another Friday morning.
I guess my only concern is one of feminine intuition, she studiously takes notes gazing thoughtfully toward the table, but is Clementine aware of piercing eyes gazing through her blouse ‘button down boob gap’? Truly scrumptious, who’d have guessed this phenomenon has a name, I didn’t!
Without wishing to repeat myself, but I’m going to anyway, I did indeed date a lady blogger I first met on the internet, we’ll name Maria shall we? Yes I met her on the internet and Maria befits a lady of around age 50, well I’m not gonna call her Rhiannon am I?
Funny how people’s names follow generational trends.
I digress. Let’s be more specific shall we, Maria blogged on WordPress as did I, not this blog, no my first had to be hastily deleted because this irate woman tracked me down, I knew her and it’s a longgggg story!
I’m possibly unique amongst internet daters, probably unusual in that I’ve featured on various platform genres, a traditional designed and specifically catering for middle aged lonely hearts, another with let’s less loftier ideals, commitment free, morally questionable, not so much a dating app as a meeting for drinks and probably hopefully for sex…… btw we’re not talking Tinder!
Though I’d love to.
So how did our WordPress relationship begin? I first commented a post written by Maria several years ago, I’d never set eyes on her before and meeting her in the flesh for real was the last thought on my/our minds, but life has a funny way of taking you in directions you’d never envisaged.
My advice to youngsters, learn to be flexible, the life you hoped for at sixteen probably wont play out as you expected.
My blogging adventure first began purely for reading pleasure, captivated by a genre known as sex blogs, middle aged women writing of extramarital affairs, exciting tales of gang gangs and hot steamy sex, thrilling passionate romance and looking back who knows if their tales were true?……. Fabulous reads leaving only one question, how does a guy’s penis remain hard for hours upon end?
I’m gonna go off message again ‘for a mo’, because I have trouble staying ‘hard’ for any longer than ten minutes, a lady and I will strip naked, we’ll kiss and cuddle, excitement builds, breath quickens as engorged blood flows, we’ll lay upon the bed, I’ll slip inside and however hard I try to delay ejaculation…… five minutes later and I’m spent! One time I excited myself tooo such an extent massaging my partner’s naked back, oiled palms pressing into warm skin, smoothing strokes the length of her spine, her face turned to one side serene relaxed and content, then came my turn for some sexy fun, my lady lowered her mouth over my purple bellend, drew me across her tongue before seconds later creamy semen burst inside her mouth…… do I suffer from premature ejaculation or hyper excitement?
“Sophie… I’m sorry” I sheepishly apologised!
“It happens” she glumly replied, cum dripping from her pretty lips.
Where was I? Oh yes Maria the WordPress blogger! Soon after reading her postings, or perhaps I’d just started my own I cannot remember, as happens we kinda made a connection here on WordPress, over time we became blog pals, our comment chat became longer, evermore personal in nature for I am a friendly personable guy. I guess a trust blossomed over the coming months, singular replies became commentary threads, neither had alteria motives, neither expected or wished for any more than friendly evening conversation, but as you do, we shared thoughts honesty and experiences I certainly hadn’t admitted to other women and certainly not on the internet!….. and cutting a long story short, hilarity fun and truthfulness ensued.
Maria wasn’t so much a sex blogger she posted photos of her voluptuous large round breasts, nipples pieced with hoops of gold, ass cheeks, tasteful naked body shots but never showing her face… nope if I ever walked past Maria in the street, I wouldn’t have battered an eye and nor she. Her blog was far from slutty though, a warm caring personality flowed from her text, I was smitten by this happy go lucky rather sweet natured middle aged lady, if a little overweight but then again I’m no hunk!
Well several enjoyable flirty months passed, I posted photos of myself lying naked on my bed (never done that before or since) and God knows nudity was my last intention when I first started….. though ours was all good clean adult fun. Three or four months passed happily then we exchanged email addresses and moved to private correspondence, btw never again, take it from me email romantic relationships (I’ve had four) can only go so far before they become……
Well the day came when we first exchanged photos, finally positioning a face alongside months of reading text anecdotes and stories, and I for one was pleasantly surprised, I’m gonna say little else than Maria possessed a cheery smile sparkly eyes and a pretty face befitting a woman her age…… oh and laying on a bed, legs slightly parted revealing a hint of her pussy! Shaven it was!
Like I said we were blog pals.
We’ll leave Maria’s appearance there shall we, ‘walls have ears’, I trusted her photos implicitly, I had no doubt whatsoever Maria was sharing genuine recent photos of herself and I cannot stress that enough. I trusted her photos her honesty, and I had no doubt whatsoever if we met in person we’d instantly recognise the other.
Speaking from ‘not so bitter’ experience, photos are the dating deal breaker, when chatting with a woman online only one question nags at the imagination, a little voice reaffirming my mistrust of liars, wary the person I am chatting to isn’t the person in the photograph, but as transpired Maria was the lady in her photo.
…….. to be continued.
(I’ll leave you with one taster, yes we met in person and now to the $64,000 question, ‘did we enjoy our date?’ Yes.)
WordPress Statistics baffle me! How can a post written Sep 2018 be so popular today?
After 2+ years, 2 blogs and writing 375+ postsA Woman’s Cleavage (a cautionary tale)is my most viewed ever! Bar none! And the past 4 months alone have been 33, 43, 43 and 39 (and still with 4 days to go!)
It’s baffling…. a mystery and I just don’t understand why? Why aren’t ALL my posts THIS popular, what happened to my favourite My neighbour IS a Stripper!
But lol dooo you care?
I am an occasional reader of Blog statistics, carefully peruse and scrutinize my popularity, it’s a boy thing, numbers matter, size matters I guess God hard wired us that way!🙄
(Having said all below I wouldn’t worry yourselves, certain niches of creativity for example poetry might be copied, but as for daily bloggers you know writing about life, sharing thoughts and opinions I’d guess there’ll be ok…. anyways an interesting conversation all the same?)
Plagiarism on WordPress goes on, thieving of a blogger’s written thoughts and ideas happens, we all know it does and I guess it’s part and parceled in with the Gig…. not a victimless crime and the phrase ‘cest la vie’ comes to mind, but I’d love to understand the motivation of people who do it, what drives them to start a blog, copy other writer’s poetry and pass it off as their own? Can’t be the money because come on, does anyone really make enough here to live on?
Perhaps the problem is down to darker motives, envious of another’s popularity, wishing for thousands of followers (do they all read?) Coveting the hundreds of likes beneath a post, jealous of a comments thread 20 30 40 readers long, bitterness at the knowledge blog friendships nurtured over sometimes years are such fun. Yep I understand the attraction for the lonely, we all wish to be liked also popular, we all enjoy social interaction but plagiarising content just isn’t right.
My suggestion is give ‘original’ writing a crack… see where it takes you? Or perhaps a photo blog?
Plagiarism! def: The practice of taking someone else’s work or ideas and passing them off as one’s own.
My ‘Jojo Rabbit’ will follow sooon I promise, but I’ve thoughts of plagiarism on my mind, I’ve also to write of my experience dating a real life blogger I first met on WordPress, we became chatty in comments as you do, and writers I follow might knowingly smile because I enjoy commenting blogs I love reading….. and no one has labelled me a stalker… yet!
Those Posts will come, better to have tooo many ideas than none at all.
In my time loitering around this internet backwater largely left alone by assholes and bullies, I put that solely down to the lack of money making opportunities, writers are tooo intelligent to be taken in by scammers, and middle aged sex obsessed men don’t make for great marketing hook-ups unless you’re flogging condoms or private sexual disease treating clinics.
Where was I? Oh yes plagiarism, the theft of words and ideas. Before the lady finished blogging for good, a fabulous Canadian writer name ‘Skinny and Single’ recounted tales of posts she’d had stolen, rewritten onto fake blogs edited by sad individuals, ‘Skinny’ at the time was a blogging superstar. Then there’s my own tawdry 1000 word tales of bedroom sexual liaisons, fun facts about vaginas and observations of the human female mammal, have any of my posts been copied? ‘Skinny and Single’ replied my question, saying in comments ‘You will have been copied’.
‘Such is life’ 🙂 .
So have I been ripped off? Not that I know of, but after several years blogging, and hundreds of posts written I have NO doubt a post (or two) has been copied and pasted onto another’s blog, with their authorship beneath….. so do I wish to be notified? No not really, arguments would ensue, profanities exchanged, there’d be anger and we know how dangerous it is to make enemies on the internet, IP’s can be traced and I’m just not into dramatic conflict.
But I have no doubt I’d be upset, to read someone’s authorship beneath my post knowing how challenging I find the process would hurt, but I guess unfortunately plagiarism comes part of the Gig. As for me I’ve never copied, ffs where’s the fun in that! Yes I’ll read a Cosmipoliton magazine sex survey, feel empowered to run with the idea and then write my own responce……. prompting discusion is ok, theft is wrong.
‘Can I hand up my essay on Friday Miss. My ghostwriter is unwell at present.’
Have I breached Copyright? Have I frigging ever! This Blog is littered by photos downloaded stolen borrowed from the internet, yes guilty as charged and I guess I’m not proud of that, they enhance a post, make for lol fun clickbait, entice draw readers in…. hopefully! I guess I shouldn’t but I do attribute ownership where possible and I never pass off as my own.
(After a 5 minute period of introspection where hot ‘mint’ tea was consumed.)
Yes I agree with Hester in South Africa… if you wish to download one of my own photos feel free to do so, just don’t say it belongs to you 🙂 .
I KNOW a young lady who posts semi nude photos of herself on the internet, yep Lizzie (for the purposes of this post) shows scantily clad selfies of herself wearing colourful bikinis she’s gonna use on holiday…. and there’s more! You’ll hardly believe this true, but wow she also posts selfies wearing tasteful white lingerie… and you just don’t know how tempted I’ve been to post one…. all in the name of investigative journalism mind you!
However I’ve resisted temptation because posting on my blog is morally reprehensible, no just darn right wrong! Not forgetting revealing her identity could almost certainly get me the sack from work, infringe Copyrights on umpteen social media platforms, and most importantly of all might cause the young woman untold embarrassment.
That’s if she cares of course.
(I haven’t but jeeze I’ve been so tempted if only to prove a point…. honest!)
Let me expand this rather cautionary tale, perhaps it’ll interest you mums with daughters of your own? You see Lizzie works at the same place I do, and that’s all the detail I am going to divulge for obvious reasons, except she’s aged about twenty, an apprentice plumber (or perhaps not) by trade and a rather pretty young lady with I might add a cracking petite figure.
“Well Andrew that’s rather forward of you, isn’t it?”
Now this is where my tale gets really interesting, because a colleague happened across her Instagram account and btw not me! He’s never said how and I’ve never asked why, but I guess if you searched her name on Google, and she owns an Instagram account, then you WILL easily find her….. a cautionary tale indeed.
Well cutting a short story shorter, the majority of Lizzie’s photos are of pets Grandparents and friends and surprisingly accessible to public viewing (though not all), but there’s more! To my guys astonishment, Lizzie shares full body length photos of herself, captured in her bedroom gazing at her reflection in a mirror with a mobile phone to hand, and yes there are photos of herself wearing bikinis, clubbing outfits and omg white lingerie!
I’m not ashamed to say we men have all viewed her Instagram, it’s been passed around the department like naughty schoolboys sharing porn images with their chums….. btw I’d like to strongly protest that I haven’t downloaded these images.
I haven’t, but here’s the point I could have screenshot her wearing ******* print bikinis, I’d guess some colleagues might have but she’s over 18, they’re public viewing so who’d care if they’re into that kind of thing… and unworried if the wife inspects their mobile phone! 😫
So my question is, does Lizzie suspect we’ve seen these revealing photos, you know wearing her bra and panties? There’s a thought, all I do know is sharing compromising photos on the internet has consequences, nosy guys find them, images get uploaded onto porn sites AND potentially you could see one posted onto a middle aged guy’s WordPress.
MY WP! 🤫
Jeeze, now wouldn’t that have made for an entertaining read 😂 .
Just last week five British Supreme court judges ruled veganism can now be classified as a religion, yep no different to Islam Christianity and any other faith humans wish to follow. You’ll have to Google (if you really can be bothered) to read the case details and ramifications, because mark my words vegans can be an intolerant bunch, many with a political sinister agenda for sweeping change, if you eat meat then be prepared for persecution because they’re after us carnivores, and if you don’t agree with these fanatical uncompromising zealots then be prepared to change your eating habits……….. Oxford’s already experienced demonstrations demanding supermarkets stop selling dairy cows milk and more will follow.
That’s enough talk of religion.
This evening’s news was dominated by the horrific fires sweeping across Australia, heart wrenching scenes and a manmade global warming disaster that’s killed human life, consumed millions of acres of forest, reduced thousands of homes to ash and most upsetting of all animals, birds, reptiles and insects have perished, one billion to be exact including 30% of all koala bear population. I had to shut down my computer because the devastation, photos and wildlife deaths reduced me to tears, first the Amazon rainforest burned now all Australia and the magnitude was emotionally all too much.
One billion lost for Christ’s sake.
(I like vegans… really I do!)
So where does veganism fit into this tragic tale? Each and every morning on the way to work I call in at my local supermarket and buy a sealed plastic tray of blueberries, and everyday I feel awful because reading their country of origin near stings my eyes.
That country changes sometimes several times a week, they can be sourced from Chile, Peru, South Africa, Morocco and so many more, I glance up and down the fruit isle and there are punnets of strawberries from Holland, grapes from Algeria, there’s African dates, Turkish soft apricots and almonds from California………. ALL plant based produce requiring vast acres of forest land and gallons of fresh drinking water by the millions.
So I ask you at what point does farming plant based food (a fact forgotten by those ‘holier than thou’ self satisfied vegans) be classed as the devastation and destruction of wild natural habitats?
You want aovocado on toast for breakfast? Then understand they’re flown in by jet aircraft and farmed by Panamanian mafia gangs.
And don’t get me started on the tonnes of aviation fuel required to transport this tasty fresh produce across the globe? Airplane jet engines belching out tonnes of CO2 gases into the atmosphere, not forgetting the litres of water required to grow let’s say, a single raspberry bush………. and please don’t question my fruit growing horticultural knowledge because I grow my own raspberries!
So my message to vegans and their new religion is before you lambast us meat eating Nazis, remember veganism has a far greater environmental cost to this once beautiful natural world!
Rant over and I’m as guilty as the next man.
Pray for Australian wildlife if you believe in God, and let’s ALL change our buying habits shall we? I guess that means no more blueberries for breakfast 😞 .
A post inspired by a favourite female blogger (or in other words I copied her idea?)
Wow another year blogging and all with 82 posts written, which was a genuine surprise seeing as I was absent for three months this summer, then again I’ve always written in fits and starts, when the urge takes me, but that’s ok because the best piece of blogging advice I’ve ever been given is, be honest to yourself also enjoy the process, and I’ve been at times recklessly honest but that’s been half the fun!
I put my lost writing mojo towards the back end of 2019 down to Brexit, there’s no coincidence my period away could be mirrored to depression and the current shambolic state of British politics….. in truth I’ve fallen out of love with this my country which is a crying shame.
Enough of politics for this is a politics free blog.
Now for WordPress popularity statistics that are so important to some, me included and I’d be lying if I said Comments don’t matter, I’d love more but that’s ok we all find an audience… oh and I will admit to being a bit of a like whore!
A great deal less numbers than some but I’m more than happy…….. also this year I’ve been singularly viewed in Ghana Rwanda also Namibia, yes someone living in Africa has read a post and that blows my mind, hmm I wonder which one?
Well judging by my top 5 viewed posts, I’d guess said tale would have been sex related, such is the adult blogging tentacle outreach across our cyber globe……….. oh and I’ll forever wonder if I have a real life lurker reading from within the shadows?
Top 5 countries viewed from:
India🇮🇳 (that’s not quite the surprise you’d first assume)
Yes all sex related, in fact all my top ten are true tales of love and sex.
So begs the question, what happened to my series themed Trellick Towers? Or the social comment that is Sandro’s café? Or my day trip to atmospheric Highgate cemetery London? I guess the old adage ‘sex sell’s’ applies 😄
Sooo many questions!
Early January began with visiting my father in hospital, and many times again after he later moved in to a nursing home, a sorrow filled tale ending with his passing in April, and as many of you will understand the sadness and emotional turmoil death of a parent is life at it’s most brutal. I’ve admitted here before we weren’t very close, but I loved him and he loved me and I’m happy knowing we enjoyed each other’s company full of its ups and downs, I have no real regrets which I will forever be grateful for. Weeks before his death I remember the sudden urge I felt 11 o clock one evening, urgently rushing by bus to be at his bedside after for some unknown reason thinking that he’d pass away that same evening, lol I shan’t repeat his answer on seeing me, but it made both me and the Ward Sister laugh.
In the words of Monty Python ‘now for something completely different’, anecdotes ‘hot’ off the press from my all tooo active imagination.
This past year I’ve slept with 5 different women, not their real names but there’s Sarah, Shannon, Diana, Nikola and Sara, yes loving Sara a favourite lady of mine for oh so many reasons. I agree these are details deemed rather distasteful to share, but what the hell🤫 where’s the fun in not telling?
Truthfully I cannot remember where and when I discovered this what shall remain nameless website, but if you’re at all interested, chatting to a woman you’ve never met before on a legally regulated web chatroom for consenting adults is thrilling. Likewise arranging to meet her in some cheap Oxford motel is exhilarating, and if truth be told meeting these women is a military campaign in itself, there’s mobile phone exchanges taken from bleak hotel carparks, me dodging security at the revolving doors, a firtive skirting of reception desks without being called over and asked,
“Where do you think you are going Sir?”
Then there’s locating the actual hotel room after being texted the number, the nerve tingling moment she first opens the room door, the first time either of us see if our photos resemble those on said chatroom, and I haven’t been disappointed yet. Apart from 55year old Cara back in 2018 who omitted to admit she had a dodgy knee which meant during sex, after a vigorous bed bouncing cowgirl, she had to step off the bed to click her knee back into position.
Happy afternoons I sometimes think I live for, though perhaps emotionally unhealthy experiences and yet filled with such warmth fun and laughter, yes I agree to a lacking real love ….. then again what is real love?
After all said and done, there’s a wicked thrill to internet sex, a day full of unknown possibilities, thrills and excitement ‘pricking’ every sense of my body into life……….. and great sex, naked body’s entwined, caressing and squeezing tits, sucking on dry nipples and joy of joys feasting between her wide open thighs, lapping at baby soft skinned folds of succulent labia, the tip of my tongue searching for her elusive clitoris…… and yes I do love giving oral sex.
So what joy and horrors will 2020 bring? Well glancing at the clock on my laptop today is january 1st, and you know what that means, my obituary will never read ‘died in 2019!’
Mild sex themes and written just for fun. Intrigued? Then please read on.
So Andrew why retell this true story in a blog? Well sex themed posts are a lot of fun to write and this one’s definitely unusual, mind you ladies names must be changed or you just might receive angry NO furious texts 11 o’clock at night, a long story read here…….. though on reflection I wouldn’t bother.
So with secrecy also discretion clearly in mind, let us name our lady err Lilly!
Don’t you think ‘Google street view’ is the most amazing website ever created? Now here’s a switched stream of consciousness for you. Ten years ago the thought that you could log onto a PC, enter a house number into a Google search engine, press ‘click’ and you’d be whisked to the exact location on a digital map was the stuff of dreams, you can even do this on a phone for heaven’s sake. What’s more you can move a yellow avatar, drop him onto the chosen house number and by the wonders of near science fiction itself, the screen will change to a street level photograph looking directly at the house you’re searching for.
Incredible, and because human beings are prone to breaking the law, you’ll gaze at alternative views and in effect ‘case the joint’, garden gates that may be unlocked, windows that could well be left open, all in all a website that’s tailor made tool for house burglars.
One evening several years ago, laptop to hand sat in a comfy living room chair, I located my own home on Google street having decided to take a nose around my neighbourhood, we’ve all done this and fascinating this car like journey can be to.
(As an aside my mother discovered a neighbour had built a swimmng pool in the garden she hadn’t known about! 😀 )
Ahh before I continue, below are two ‘screen shot’ images of my own home taken from Google street, but note all sensitive information has been blanked out, I don’t want any cat burglars robbing my home when I’m out!
Incidentally, many years ago I was standing at a bus stop yes waiting for a bus, and this van slowly drove past with the name Google emblazened across the side, and with what looked like a tripod fixed to the roof taking 360 degree photos from the road, I’ve since located that bus shelter to see if the camera captured me but of course all us prospective passengers were blurred out.
BTW as is the number plate of the stationary Mini convertible outside my home.
Anyways there I sat driving an imaginary car ‘up and down’ this quiet street I live in, and I can distinctly remember wondering who an earth owned that white Mini half parked on the pavement? Now I don’t own this sporty little car, neither do my neighbours nor any of my friends family or acquaintances. Well this started to bother me, just be aware I live in a very quiet neighbourhood with lots of road parking space, yet this Mini sat directly opposite my front door, no question in my mind the owner was visiting me, was I out perhaps at work? Who were they?
Then after half an hour or so of wracking my brains, like a streak of lightening I remembered it was Lilly’s car, yes at that very moment a Google van drove past, this young lady was inside my house and now I remembered she’d said her own car was being serviced in a garage, and she’d been loaned a white Mini courtesy car for the day.
Well I was chuckling to myself well pleased I’d solved this worrisome conundrum, then lol a second more wicked thought crossed my mind, and yes as I zoomed in closer to the second floor bedroom window, the curtains were drawn closed and note in the daytime, why would my curtains be CLOSED?
I know exactly why, Lilly was in my bedroom that’s why! 😄
Well turns out at the very second the Google street van drove past photographing my house, for absolute certain I can say without any shadow of doubt, Lilly and I were having sex in BED together, now there’s a thought, could even have been the very moment I climaxed as she rode my penis cowgirl. Now if you are interested and I know you are, cowgirl is my very favourite position, heavenly sex for lazy men. I can visualise Lilly now with her long blonde hair, a pretty ‘blank’ year old with trim figure firm strong thighs straddling my groin as she breathlessly rode me like a female jockey astride her stallion.
(I mean sitting on her horse ‘bobbing up and down’ as it raced to the finish line!)
Keep up 😀 .
Lovely lady was Lilly, with her firm to grasp high round boobs and bubbly personality, I’ve seldom had more enjoyable fantastic sex than with Lilly, she could even swallow my entire 160mm shaft down her throat……….. with condom fitted of course. Hmm happy days and she had the cutest little kitty!
Now come on! Tell me if I’m wrong, what are the chances that anyone can pin point where they were, or what they were doing at the time Google chose to ‘upload’ a photo of their home on the internet?
Can you ‘top’ that with your own unusual tale of coincidences conundrums and science fiction technology?
To a person all of the bloggers I follow here on WordPress have written their own Christmas themed post, and seeing as the Christmas lights in my own home Town are absolutely (blank) rubbish, I’ve photographed several trees around Oxford instead although the lovely specimen outside St. Johns college Oxford didn’t come out so well, shame really because the large multicoloured light bulbs made for a spectacular sight BUT alas not for my phone camera!
My place of employment lies in the heart of Oxford city, I’m a lucky boy because within 5minutes of leaving work I am quite literally walking amongst the dreaming spires of Oxford, magnificent buff coloured buildings with their own ‘Quads’ enclosed behind high walls. Without fail throughout summer or winter you will find trucks of equipment brought in by motion picture companies for series such as ‘Morse’, the ‘Harry Potter’ films and SO many more period dramas.
The phrase Oxford University can confuse people because no such place exists, wander the city streets in the heart of Oxford and you’re amongst Colleges dating back to the middle ages, and it’s those constituent Colleges which make up The University. As always happens wherever you live upon this planet, you take the place you live in for granted, look at my photo of Oriel College and you’ll see the entrance to a 17th Century building, itself situated upon College land that can be dated back to 1324 in the middle ages……. lol beat that you Americans 😀 , incidentally there are four other Colleges older than Oriel.
Oxford’s a beautiful city to visit if you ever get the opportunity, unspoilt Colleges museums and green parkland all protected by strict planning restrictions, and if I’m ever walking past College entrances, the fact many famous scholars have entered these oak wooden doors in their time as undergraduates isn’t lost on me, whether that be kings queens poets writers movie stars also politicians, talented minds from right across the globe have studied here and below I’ve included five famous graduates from Oriel College.
Notable students (alumni) include,
Baden Powel founder of boy scout movement Cecil Rhodes founder of Rhodesia (Zimbabwe) John Spencer-Churchill, 7th Duke of Marlborough – Undergraduate 1840, politician and grandfather of Sir Winston Churchill Thomas Fairfax, 6th Lord Fairfax of Cameron – Undergraduate 1710, friend and patron of George Washington. Walter Raleigh – Undergraduate 1572 to 1574
Wishing you all a very Happy Christmas, (and note I haven’t mentioned the word Brexit, hopefully in 2020 there’ll be an orderly withdrawal from Europe but I have the feeling Cameron ‘The Great Destroyer’ and Boris ‘Trump wannabe’ Johnson won’t have made that process pain free or easy…….. oh well as the old adage goes “remember, all you have to do is keep on breathing”)
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 center 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 her 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!’
(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.)
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?)
🙂 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’m hoping my Title above has intrigued you enough to read this very personal Posting. I’ll try to be brief with my introduction BUT I always say that don’t I!!
Dad sadly passed away early April 2019 after a long illness enough said. Well as you’d imagine we as a family have been busy with banking and legal documents etc hence a very good reason to clear and tidy through his study draws. AND AS ALWAYS HAPPENS when someone passes away, we discovered many long forgotten treasures including the typed manuscript of a fictional novel the name ‘Jennifer’ emblazoned in red ink across a Title page, but that’s a whole blog post all of its own which I’ll leave for another day!
We also discovered a folder crammed full of newspaper articles from the 1980s which I for one had clean forgotten about, and a selection of which I’ve photographed and shown below. Our local newspaper is called the Oxford Mail, every Town and every City across the world has its very own newspaper, although the internet has very probably moved them on-line however the Mail battles on in the Newsagents reporting local news to local people.
Well it turns out in the early 1980s my father wrote a ‘Mail’ guest column once a week, fifteen or so editions only and approximately 700 words long, themed on a variety of topics from family also childhood. Interesting readable pieces written with humour and from life’s experience and IMPORTANTLY Dad didn’t earn a penny because the Oxford Mail are known to be stingy with money, HOWEVER be totally aware he would neither have wanted or expected to be paid, I’d guess purchasing the stamps with glee because yes my father wrote through pure enjoyment, and I’d guess many of you reading here and now will nod your head in agreement 🙂 .
Yes Dad wrote for love enjoyment not financial reward 🙂 and that’s today’s introduction sorted. Below I’ve copied one of his Oxford Mail published article’s called ‘Facing up to the student challenge’ featuring my brother and his girlfriend, the original is of course typewriter written and yes I am rather proud of these pieces of writing, who knows perhaps he’d have been thrilled I blogged his article on the internet?
I’ll leave you with one last thought, if Dad was alive and in good health today I’m positive he would have taken to WordPress ‘like a duck to water!’
Can you visualise days at Redbrick University in the1960s? All the male students wore coats and the girls were locked up in their halls of residence, not a miniskirt in sight.
(Blimey 😮 Dad was imagining miniskirts!)
An entire Term’s equipment could be transported in one large suitcase. This was heavy, admittedly on occasions fellow travellers on the 11.17am narrowly escaped with their lives when the case was swung up onto one of those silly little tennis racks they had in those days. The swinging sixties and the permissive Seventies (to say nothing of the Expensive Eighties) have changed all this.
Below are listed some of the items essential equipment parents of prospective students might invest in. Also included is some advice to parents culled from bitter experience.
Don’t allow your son or daughter to secure a place too far away from home unless gaining comprehensive knowledge of the road works on the UK motorway network is your forte. Preferably choose one far enough away to prevent journeys home to borrow money or best non stick frying pan, but not so far away as to make the transport of incredibly heavy cardboard boxes a problem. Gone are the days when a text book costs 15 shillings. Books like those used by the student coast about £40 a nicend a quick glance will not rivet the layman like a Jilly Cooper.
Driven to tears?
2. On the subject of transport, invest in a van of fair size. If this is thought absurd, try getting three guitars, a trunk full of dirty washing, fourteen cardboard boxes of assorted shoes, cassette tapes (remember those?), books, files, a monster packet of Sainsburys monster biodegradable washing powder, a small microwave, a cardboard tube containing a poster of Madonna, portable TV and spare parts for a Citroen 2cv.
3. Students reappear at the end of June ready to unwind. This however is the parents hardest time. Struggling to get the cardboard boxes into the loft is only part of the problem. A trip to Israel and Egypt with the girlfriend is in prospect…………… paid for with proceeds from casual employment.
Watch the telephone bill. Calls to the Egyptian Embassy in the daytime are expensive. The trip will begin at 8am from Oxford bus station, so say fair well to at least one nights sleep.
Two days before departure, realisation dawn’s the girlfriend does not know where Egypt is, let alone that a visit there is rather different from a day out in Bournemouth. Search the loft for a school globe to show her. Full to the brim with typhoid injections and quinine tablets, she will take fright at 11pm the night before departure. ‘Prisoner Cell Block 11’ has a marvellously calming effect and the parent can relate to it by realising the inmates are having a better time than he is.
Reversed charges from Tel Aviv cost about £9, so budget for them. Arrival back after a month is also at 3am. Cook egg and chips, make gallons of tea while you listen to stories of spells spent in Israel and Egyptian hospitals suffering from gastroenteritis which seems to be the main feature of the trip.
A last piece of advice for the parent is to give up, at least temporarily, alcohol and tobacco and embrace the conversation movement with open arms. A crafty cigarette in the garage will pass unnoticed, but don’t throw away the tube from a used toilet roll last the green police pounce. Pay the Poll Tax, but don’t attempt to justify it…………. and pay the students as well.
When your son or daughter goes away for the first time, things will never be the same again. It is hard to negotiate the path between idealism and the demands of this difficult world but one day it will all be worthwhile.
R. Shepherdson & A. Shepherdson 2019
(One final thought, just imagine living in an age of being unable to edit as you go and NO spell-check!!)
(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.
(My apologies for not publishing my NSFW post yesterday, I went out for a lovely meal with three retirees I used to work with so I’ll post another time.)
Thursday 14th of February and of course Valentine’s Day, so if you’ve been following this week’s daily postings you’ll be aware the topic that weaves them all together (well hopefully) is women’s lingerie, jeeze even surprises me how my overactive imagination works sometimes. All good fun 🙂 .
Ok I know I’m a bit odd, stop nodding you’re not supposed to agree! And YES I did take those photographs above earlier this week, “why so Andrew?” Well today I’m asking myself, could a guy be prosecuted for indecent assault, you know if he was to ‘touch up’ a Department Store clothing mannequin when‘she’s’ wearing sexy underwear?
No I didn’t but I can’t say I wasn’t tempted!
All this past week after alighting from my commuter bus in the centre of Oxford, I pass these three on the way to work, but because our early mornings are still dark dazzling halogen spotlights almost bring them alive, in fact on the first morning they caught my eye and I had to do a ‘double-take’ they are that realistic……………. I should add being as it’s nearly Valentines Day there are many more displays similar to this, AND what’s with ALL these plastic models being six feet tall, slender and size 8 figures, what’s wrong with size 14 women gifted with child bearing hips and 34DD busts?
Good question no?
So begs the question, in the minds of the window dressers who are they actually trying to appeal to? Is it men so as they’ll buy sweet nothings for their significant other? Or women so that they can wear something sexy to excite and turn their man on? Not forgetting those confused women in lesbian relationships…………… no NO when I say confused I mean they’re both buying for both themselves also their partners……….. phew that was close! And I dare not mention we have skirt wearing Transsexuals at my place of work.
(I’m saying absolutely nothing, be true unto yourself that’s what I say)
So now I’m wondering can a sexy lingerie wearing shop mannequin ever be considered indecent? I’m absolutely convinced many Muslim men will find those three ‘women’ pictured above offensive, recently London Underground had to remove posters of models wearing brassieres because questions had been asked, I’d guess there’d been a social media sh#t storm or women’s Groups had asked why women’s bodies were being sexually objectified?…………. Jeez goodness knows what feminists would make of some of the posts on this blog.
However readers should be aware by now I adore women and am also a feminist, heavens we even have female engineering apprentices at work and why not, the days of girls only doing sewing and cookery at school and boys doing metalwork are long gone, and as it should be. Being serious for a second, and note I have addressed this topic before, #MeToo has changed Britain for the better because I’ve noticed men take a great deal more care with their language opinions and banter when around women.
Where was I? Oh yes me earlier today standing in the entrance to Debenhams department store taking photographs, I double checked to see no one was watching but no doubt I was being watched by their CCTV cameras, and I’ve just had a thought that’ll be twice now! (long story) So no I didn’t touch these three tasty plastic models up but they didn’t half look sexy, I guess that answer’s my earlier question doesn’t it, that women’s lingerie is purchased for their partner’s enjoyment…………… yes?
Discuss 😀 .
Before I leave you, this’ll be the first Valentine’s Day in 58 years that my dad hasn’t purchased a loving card for my mum 😦 . Isn’t memory robbing dementia is a wicked medical condition, I doubt he has any comprehension of what being married actually means? I’d guess in his own little world mum is now just a person who is always around the house at his ‘beck and call’, all terribly sad.
Anyways just so as to redress any perceived sexist imbalance, there’s not this is just for fun, but if anyone is unhappy here’s a photo whether you be straight or gay.
You should know me by now! I’m a fascinated observer of the female human mamal, anything wrong in that?
So with this week’s blog topic in mind, daily posts themed around women’s lingerie, I’m going to raise the tone of this ‘blog’ and write a post about yes women’s underwear, a tale prompted by mistakenly finding myself on ‘Marks and Spencer’s’ floor devoted to women’s undergarments…….. if you’ve never heard of M&S all you need to understand is 70% of women buy their underwear here, with Oxford’s Branch having half a floor devoted solely to this most Holy of intimate garment, seriously a cavernous expanse of delicate lingerie hanging in aisles interspersed by the occasional size 8 mannequin, dolled up in err……….. well use your imagination please!
Whatever the age M&S is Britain’s go to knicker store.
And yes that is ‘Camilla Windsor’ being shown around M&S’s lingerie department!
When one descends the escalator within Oxford’s Debenhams department store, from top floor down to level number three, a traveller aboard this slow travelling walkway will invariably pass by ladies with a thoughtful expression etched across their brow and holding up some delicate garment of lingerie to the light. She’s of course deeply concentrated wondering whether this bra or pair knickers will look good on her figure, does she like the colour and of course most importantly of all whether purchasing is worth the asking price? Perhaps contemplating trying it on before going home and buying it a third off from Amazon?
Yes? No? Please don’t answer………… and do people do this? I mean use a store only to test goods out? I hope not, I’m now very conscious of trying to buy what I need on the High Street or Mall, because disappearing Town centres are often the heart of a community and they do provide jobs.
As an aside, Jeff Bezos Amazon has a one trillion dollar turnover, to me that stinks of a great many City centre shops having to close and many many thousand of workers having lost their jobs, PLUS he pays very little tax instead funnelling British online purchases through offices in Luxembourg…………. frigging hell man, at least pay the taxes you owe!!
Where was I before sidestepping into an angry rant, oh yes women purchasing their underwear! Actually if I wasn’t a skilled engineer I’d like to work in a lingerie department just to stand and watch these err sexy goings on, in fact I’d work for free!! Just imagine handling these pretty pieces of cloth ALL day long, mind you I’d stop at any ideas of helping out in the bra fitting rooms, sorry but that’s just plain creepy!
Jeez my train of consciousness even takes me back sometimes!
Where was I? Riding escalators observing women buy their underwear, and no I don’t return straight up to the top floor so as I can watch these ladies on the return journey down again, jeeze that would be just plain creepy (again) hmm would be fun though, even pressing that emergency red button that stops accidents from happening, err hasn’t 😀 ever crossed my mind!
However walking through Marks and Spencer’s first floor lingerie department in Oxford UK, is a WHOLE lot more emotionally nerve-racking, truly, at this point you may be perhaps thinking ‘A. Shepherdson pray why are you looking at women’s underwear?’ No NO I don’t wear lingerie, no if you need to return an item purchased, in order to reach ‘Returns Exchanges and Refunds’ situated at the rear of Floor 1, you have to walk through yes this gigantic expanse full of women’s underwear, rows and rows of it! Slightly disconcerting actually brushing past lacy pink twinsets, a sight captured by the corner of my eye because I’m not looking.
M&S’s underwear department used to be on the ground floor, to be more exact in front of the entrance to the food hall, then one time I had to take an unwanted item back, made for Returns on first floor, and there facing me is a retail cathedral space dedicated to just lingerie, I actually froze my feet unable to walk! They’d gone and redesigned the interior of the shop hadn’t they! In a state of near panic I walked up to a young lady dressed in black with her back to me, reaching to hang up a garment or take it down and asked her,
“Excuse me Miss, can you tell me where the Return’s counter is?”
This brunette young woman turned around, as startled as I was and no older than sixteen, well I ask you how was I to know this tall girl was a mere teenager? Jeez we all make honest mistakes, well her cheeks blushed and she nervously answered,
“Sorry I don’t work here”, and then her eyes quickly darted sideways to look at someone now standing beside me, I also turned to this person now stalking its prey, ME a single guy speaking with her daughter, and who did I see? Yes a middle aged woman and by the look of her quite obviously the young girl’s mother, well you can tell can’t you! The mother slightly taken aback then burst out laughing before saying,
“She doesn’t work for Marks and Spencer’s” and btw now smiling,
So I quickly replied “Oh no! Sorry I mistook her for a salesperson?” The mother laughed again saying “no worries” and I quickly turned and made for an exit, talk about embarrassing! Anyways I returned to the Store hours later, asked an actual member of staff this time for directions, and yes they’d moved Returns to way behind those racks of hanging underwear.
Yes a misunderstanding all around, omg I’m closer to the end than the beginning, my heart cannot take mild shocks like it use to!
Hmm amuses me still how nervous I get walking through a ladies underwear department, do all men feel this way? I guess subconsciously I’ll think back to the women I’ve undressed or watched undress, and yes like I said earlier while in Debenhams, I am amused watching women perusing selecting touching and holding towards bright fluorescent lights their soon to be purchased delicates!
Anyways not to worry they both had a laugh at my expense, the mother seemed to think the mistaken identity absolutely hilarious? And I can imagine the daughter saying later “Do I look like I’m dressed as a shop worker for heaven’s sake?” But jeez you do have to be careful asking customers questions inside underwear departments, don’t you? Or are we men becoming slightly paranoid #MeToo fallout and all.
(I’ve thought about this seemingly inconsequential tale many times, a completely absurd scenario but what always confuses me is why this mother burst out into uncontrollable laughter? Perhaps I looked more startled than I ever assumed, or is the reason little more complicated than a ‘mummy bear looking out for her offspring bear cub? Funny old day.)
If you’ve happened to read yesterday’s post, you’ll know all the five days this week I am writing a tale flash fiction or whatever on the theme of women’s lingerie, don’t ask why perhaps I’m just odd that way……………….. incidentally the ‘publishing’ sequence has changed, or in other words that’s the story of my WordPress.
Laying beside Karolina two Saturdays ago I don’t think I’ve felt happier in a long while, my lady’s aged 50 and extremely passionate, an amusing conversationalist if a little hard to follow as she’s from Poland, but not to worry she’s an extremely sexy lady, in fact my idea of a dream woman, and I know having a lady stick her tongue deep inside your mouth while kissing sounds a little ahem icky! But it really is sensuous and divine.
So where are we two aged lovers to be found? Me a fifty something who wears glasses when having sex, also Karolina with her dodgy knee that locks up meaning she has to clamber off the bed to give creaking joints a stretch! No arthritis just ‘ole mother time’ creeping up and don’t you find older women are more grateful of a guys romantic advances, not desperate for attention, no just content to be loved for who they are, no spring chicken and all, oh and fucked hard by a guy who prefers his sexual animal to be a woman of more mature years.
Where are we? Inside a Travelodge Inn alongside a busy A34 dual carriageway, a bedroom to be more exact, I’d guess American’s would call this establishment a Motel for lonely individuals driving monotonous ashen gray motorways in need of a cheap place to sleep of a night.
Our room is in pitch darkness apart from a shaft of bright light shining from the wardrobe bathroom, the temperature’s boiling as Motels often are and Karolina’s laying on our bed gazing at the ceiling with me close by her side, so close I’m all but cuddling with my body touching hers from my chest to my toes, snuggled in tightly, my six inch hardened dick resting atop her thigh and bucking bouncing off her skin to the beat of a drum, physiologically connected to the blood pumping through my heart.
Yes I do love her, my arm resting on her tummy a hand slipped inside her burgundy panties, the same exact colour as a good claret of wine. I’m not looking at her lingerie briefs though with two digit fingers gently sliding back and forth through the parted lips of her wet kitty, sweeter than wine and bare of all pubic hair but for a small stubbly patch on her mons pubis, lol there’s a medical term you don’t hear often!
So do I miss that teenage pubic bush weeded out over the ravages of time? They’re kinda fun to run finger’s through or admire in the shower, a mop of brunette coloured hair dripping and wet.
With my fingertips doing all the talking below, my gaze is drawn to Karolina’s chest raising with every breath sipped in, two high round breasts nestling beneath her claret shaded bra cups, with its swirling patterns of lace matching the panties and my busy fingers inside, but hold on subconsciously my sexually aroused mind has control of my fingers without me knowing, playing a fiddle all by their own now pressed against her clit and dragging her intimate skin in small circles, the curtains of her labia lips now drawn tightly closed.
Then faintly audible to my ear, hardly noticeable within our church hushed boudoir, I heard the quietist whisper you ever did hear, Karolina with her eyes tightly closed, purred a softly spoken,
“Oh My God!”
Do you know if I’d cleared my throat or been distracted by noise outside I would have missed it!
She quiet startled me actually though not a muscle in my body responded to Karolina’s almost joyous incredulity, with my imagination pricked alive I suddenly realised my circling fingertips had touched a spot so sacred, nerve endings so excited by pleasure giving chemicals flooding her brain, a cocktail altering her mind, that for those few two seconds in time Karolina had been whisked to a blissful heaven itself.
(……………. and tomorrow, “Holy crap I’m on the bra and knickers Floor!”)
Mild adult themes with the absence of imagery or bad language, perhaps a tale more humorous than err sexy erotica? Oh and I’ll leave you to decide if Gemma is a real living woman or perhaps a lady conjured from my risqué imagination…….. and AS always 100% my own tale!
Fellatio! As you are perhaps aware if you follow my rather eclectically themed blog I’m a lover of savouring delicious words, during my tedious no tortuously boring commute to work I idly gaze out of my usual window seat, looking at the exact same scenery pass by tooo slow to be a blur too fast to appreciate and enjoy, a moving landscape to nudge me into a daydream about sex so I’ll look around the familiar faces, some listening to music on their mp3’s other’s reading and me idly wondering if the blonde lady with a fringe that nearly covers her eyes, is good at oral? ‘Wow that hairstyle suits her, she can hardly see but it’s so ’60’s’ and looks so sexy on a lady……… not forgetting a summer cleavage that near takes my breath-away!’
Gorgeous fellatio for some reason has been on my mind lately hmm perhaps because I haven’t had my dick sucked in a while and I’m feeling rather horny, I miss the various women I’ve been to bed with also their personalised techniques, and yes ladies lick and suck differently, of course they do! With one hand they curl their fingers around my floppy arousal so as to take a tight grip, give it a couple of up and down movements to harden 😉 , lower their open mouth over the purple bell and suck like a lollipop but here’s a thing women ALWAYS close their eyes?
I asked a lady called Gemma (not her name) why she always did this, close her eyes? She paused, thought for a second and with the hint of a giggle (because sex for some reason is so darn hilarious to adults) she said,
“Because I’m concentrating”, another pause “and I know you’ll ####ing come at some point!”
And yes reminiscing for a second I can imagine tongue gymnastics may test a lady’s powers of concentration, but if we’re talking me giving cunnilingus then I couldn’t be happier feasting between a lady’s parted thighs, kneeling at the end of the bed, her body pulled in close to me, my hands caressing stroking the outside of her thighs and gently gripping her hips then waist. If the room is dark with only her bedside table lamp throwing a golden sheen across her naked body, the eroticism for me is heightened as I kiss her intimacy, the tip of my wet tongue dancing between the folds of her rosy ripened labia, all the while my eyeline is drawn the whole length of her body, past the mounds of her fulsome breasts now slightly overhanging and resting to the sides of her chest. The ambience making the areola appear puffy against her golden suntanned like skin, nipples rock hard and pointy.
So do we wish need to read and learn my honest opinions as to the scent of a ladies kitty? Now you readers may be angry annoyed at what this writer’s about to say? Not to worry, I dislike the smells of shop perfumes they’re tooo sweet for my noses delicate nerve endings, no I’ll take the natural animal scent of a lady’s freshly bathed skin every time……… absent of perfumed soap of course!!!
But my wonderment doesn’t end there, oh no as I lick and suck, my mind concentrated on trying to locate where I assume that mythical ‘g’ spot is? 😀 The horn of her clitoris, still to this day at the age of fifty I have no real idea if I’ve TRUELY touched her ‘g’ spot? Yes I’ll stop and stare for a second at a lady’s vulva in wonderment, darting eyes searching for this magical clit that’s supposed to engorge purple with blood, but I cannot medically inspect for tooo long because she gets annoyed and fidgety until the time I plucked up the courage to ask,
“Gemma tell me honestly do you enjoy your kitty being licked?”
“Honey if I’m not enjoying myself I’d ####ing tell you!” Came her reply.
And yes she swears like a sailor, that taboo words are spoken from such a pretty mouth I find both shocking and hilarious possibly because her diction is crystal clear, as posh as the Duchess of Cambridge she is!
‘Thank you’ smiling and thinking to myself, ‘She’s contented and happy so who can ask for more?’
However unlike Gemma I am never ever bored giving a lady oral sex, I’m enjoying myself too much for that and I can feel my unrestrained hardness bucking as it gets evermore excited, beads of crystal clear precum dripping onto the carpet, a healthy function of the reproductive equipment so we are now told, doctors say flushing the prostate gland of precum may help a prostate’s health, even propensity to prostate cancer as the internet says, so it’s either true, wishful thinking or fake news…………. the story of modern day internet addicted society.
Where was I? Oh yes kneeling before a beautiful naked Gemma laying on her back stretched out before me, thighs wide apart her kitty hoping receptive and ready, a vision of sexual loveliness glistening beneath orange lamp-light. And yes her round mounds of breasts are gorgeous and a feast for my eyes, they’re even close enough to reach up and squeeze if I stretch, but doing that’s not so good on the old back these days so I’m resigned and content enough to watch her chest rise and fall as sexual excitement envelopes her body.
I’ve never experienced a woman writhing and screaming in exquisite passion filled pleasure, so am I doing something wrong I ponder? Perhaps I’m not licking fast enough, perhaps the sucking is why my tongue goes numb, no my cunnilingus technique is more sedate and gentle but her body does respond to my touch, each time my tongue slides dances over that erotic spot of hers, blessed with thousands of nerve endings making her pelvis twitch.
And time to time if she’s breathing deeply, if the touch of my wet tongue glides over her sacred organ, she’ll catch her breath and I know I’ve hit something? But there’s a distinct absence of moaning and definitely zero screaming for heaven’s sake, the golden skin of her body shimmering with moisture drawn to the surface, her chest rising and falling, locks of long blonde hair (err bottled blonde) haven fallen to the pillow, her forearm drawn across her face shielding her eyes, then all of a sudden Gemma can be heard in soft shallow quiet tones repeating over and over again,
And so this highly unusual conversation continues for ten minutes, Andrew nuzzled between her thighs lapping at a stream of salty nectar, Gemma quite contented if less than orgasmic, so a question for all you experts reading, why does the surface of my tongue go numb?
Ok lol she doesn’t appear wildly excited but she’s an enthralling visual sexy performance all the same, she tells me she can be bored with her mouth full whereas I’ve never felt so alive excited, and yes riveted to her every word breath and move as I taste and lick……………… ‘hmm’ I muse, ‘who is enjoying this cunnilingus more?’
Mild adult themed text, but please be aware contains no sexual imagery.
I’ll be completely honest with you lovely readers who take the time to read my Blog, I do worry when someone replies to my post about caring for elderly parents, then subsequently Follows, I’m wondering are they aware my very next post could be about the female orgasm? The Tower of London? Do they realise I’m a Blog devoid of one theme? Well due to my having a very low boredom threshold (child sense of wonderment) I’ll write about whatever’s on my mind and hopefully it’s entertaining, but as Blogger Paola once commented ‘Andrew never apologise for something you’ve written.’
This evening I’ve been thinking about a natural world phenomenon namely the female sexual orgasm, now I could write chapter and verse sharing both my knowledge and experiences of the males, however I won’t, but I have to admit watching a woman’s face as she masturbates to orgasm is possibly the most enthralling captivating and wonderous spectacles I’ve ever seen, and just so as you know I can tell the difference between a genuine orgasm and one faked, lol without question I can spot the difference but don’t all men say that?
However because my own sexual experiences with a lady can be described as casual relationships, I haven’t actually slept with a lady who’s experiencing a true orgasm, well not strictly true there was Karina, but if I tell you I prefer a kiss and a cuddle then you’ll understand my sexual preferences are pretty much vanilla, and as you may know from reading a previous relevant blog post, I have a strong dislike of visual pornography. Why so Andrew? Well I have little people relatives, and a cold shiver pulses down my spine at the thought an 8year old could be watching all manner of filth streamed through a media device!
But I’m a grown adult, morally well balanced, intelligent (most of the time) and sexually active so subsequently I can tell the difference between loving sex shared between two adults who care for each other, and faked pornography devoid of all humanity and emotion…………. jeeze I’m getting off message yet again, where was I oh yes the wonders of the female orgasm!
Notice I’ve flagged this post NSFW, that’s because I’m going to share with you an artistic YouTube video written by and starring Candice Dawn, she’s an author reading from her very own novel ‘Reclaiming Eros, A Heroines Journey’. Now I’ll be honest with you and admit I have neither heard of the author or read her book but I have seen this promotional video which I’ll share below and note she’s titled as Not Suitable For Work.
Amazing what you come across whilst idly surfing the internet and watching YouTube videos!
I’ll set the scene by saying Candice is sat at a table clasping her novel between both hands, then she begins reading a passage out loud to camera whilst a woman underneath her table has an Hitachi vibrator to hand, yet we see nothing apart from hearing the distant hum of her pleasure instrument’s motor pressed between Candice’s open legs. For a guy it’s quite incredible sight to see a woman lose all composure, I guess all her thoughts and concentration are channelled into reading aloud, whilst her unconscious mind is under the influence of pleasure giving chemicals coursing through regions of her brain, either way her intense emotional sexual pleasure is almost palpable………… and the results are spectacularly animated, pretty amazing actually, and a wonderous sight to behold, in fact I’m quite in awe of what a human female body is capable of……….. but please take note Candice’s video is tasteful and appropriate viewing.
Ok you’ll have your own thoughts but remember Candice is starring in her very own promotional video 🙂 ………… the things you authors get up to!!!
My earlier post Racist Britain rather depressed me, so I thought why not cheer myself up and write about women’s boobs, and as you know I love women’s boobs!
Oh dearie me how an earth am I going to try and explain this one away (however before reading remember I both respect women and adore their boobs) well all I can say is you will have your own opinions by the end! 🙂
I could dedicate a whole blog to the human female breast, no I’m not joking I could honestly! But I would NEVER post photographs on the internet neither would I ever make fun of a woman for a reader’s amusement, most definitely not, I would be positive and respectful because I am a decent well mannered guy who adores women, in fact I’m in awe of these delicious delectable gorgeous creatures I don’t understand them mind you and there lies my insecurities.
Btw just so as you know I am a feminist.
My breast blog (hypothetical) would be informative positive, neither salacious or kinky but yes I could be guilty of sexualising breasts however anything I’d write would be body image positive and written all because I’m obsessed fascinated by a lady’s breasts, hmm perhaps a little tooo much?
(Everyone these days seems to suffer from questionable personality traits, I have AvPD but does a disorder exist for breast obsessions if so I have a feeling I’m afflicted, seriously!)
You’ll be relieved to read I won’t be writing a breast themed blog!
Jeeze that’s a lengthy introduction to my tale AND I haven’t started yet.
I’ve enjoyed naked sexual fun and games with many women in my lifetime, ages range from 19 to 48, (though Karina told fibs, I’m sure she’s 55 years but a gent never asks does he!) And as you’d imagine all twenty-five ladies were gifted with very different breasts, large or small, pert or saggy, high and round, firm or squidgy, empty and drooping, not to worry I loved them all! Imagine a boob size and shape well I guess I’ve squeezed one…………….. and don’t get me started on sucking nipples or I’ll be here all evening.
(Note Karina for the purposes of this tale isn’t the lady’s real name but I like the name so Karina she is, perhaps one day I’ll write the tales of how I came to meet these women but for now I prefer not to.)
So yes in my lifetime I’ve squeezed many pairs of unenhanced natural, as God intended, human female breasts and gorgeous they were to, and truthfully each time I near fainted when they took their bras off, put it this way the reveal and drop is the definition of eroticism. But not until meeting Karina had I ever slept with a woman who’d implants in her breasts and to be honest I’m in two minds, still! On the one hand I’m okay with falsies because they were Karina’s life choice, she both paid for and loved them so that’s fine by me, enhanced plastic boobs helped her body image, calmed any insecurities and the shape and size made her happy so it doesn’t matter what I think does it.
If I were ask to take a guess I’d say she didn’t get them because men demanded them, OR maybe sublimely did she?🤔😯😕 Who knows either way I didn’t really like them but didn’t say!!
And yes laying beside Karina looking at her burgundy lace bra cupping high round breasts they did indeed look womanly fabulous, her bust profile was exquisitely proportioned to her slim body frame (not porn star pneumatic balloons, yuck no!) The implants suited her, gave her a feminine cleavage however after she’d leant forward, reaching her hands behind to unclip then tossing her intriguing lingerie to the beside chair, well after the moment of freeing those bundles of fun from their restraint they didn’t drop 😦 and I enjoy watching saggy boobs fall to above the belly button. Anyways only after first setting eyes on Karina’s falsies did two horizontal pink lines etched into her skin capture my gaze.
Yep you’ll have guessed (cause I’ve already said), those pink lines were in fact the result of a surgical blade slicing into her skin, 2″ long incisions through which silicon implants had been forced underneath her breast tissue in what must have been a brutal operation.
Why an earth go under the knife? She could have died!
Now I’ve seen these breast implant operations on the TV and I liken them to meat butchery, horrendous, my Great Grandfather was an army meat butcher in World War One (close to Ypres) and I’d guess he lol could have been a surgeon in another life but I shouldn’t be disrespectful. Well enough to say her surgeon stitched the incisions together (a nice job) and once healed Karina was left with two red unsightly marks for the rest of her life……… hmm I’ll be honest I don’t agree with breast augmentation.
BUT she loved them both so who am I to judge, live and let live I say.
Well because I’m an inquisitive sort of guy, an engineer by trade, I spent the next quarter of an hour asking all manner of questions, prodding squeezing basically giving her my own unskilled type of breast examination and she was happy to teach. In fact she guided my hand with hers to a point above her left implant, I gently pressed and felt a hard 4mm sized circular lump under the skin, I near freaked out with the shock and Karina had a look of concern etched across her brow then she said,
“Don’t worry the lump’s not cancerous”.
Jeeze I don’t think I’ve received such a heart stopping shock before, she should have warned me of a hard lump because I hadn’t frigging expected it!! Karina then went on to explain a hospital biopsy had revealed the lump wasn’t cancerous but I think her broken Polish accent meant I missed the true reason in translation, however she assured me the implant hadn’t split which was my next worry. Suffice to say she was booked in to have surgery this ********* though I could see she was quite concerned………………. don’t you think it a shame that a woman has to endure surgery and silicon bags inserted under her skin to improve the way she sees her body? AND didn’t she understand men love boobs whatever the size and shape I guess not?
I felt disappointed that afternoon, Karina’s implants were firm hard and yes they gave her a perky profile, but I’d loved them to have to been squidgy and jiggle, pendulously swing when she moved just as God intended, so okay they were hard but after 5 minutes of sucking licking and caressing I overcame any doubts……………. well nearly all!
Anyways we both relaxed and began to enjoy each other’s bodies, we kissed passionately the womanly smell of her freshly showered skin passing my nostrils and just so as you know I’m not a great fan of bottled perfume because ladies naturally smell divine ❤ , I’ll choose the clean animal scent of a woman over manufactured smells every time…….. I’ll share no further details, you’re all sexual animals lol you 😉 understand many of the ‘positions’ naked lovers get up to in bed together, even with her dodgy knee! (She got out of bed at one point to click it back into position.)
Enough said, joking apart I learnt you should always see a Doctor if there’s something medically not right with your body.
I’ll wrap up this post by saying Karina and I will see each other again and no doubt chat about her (our) health but I’ll leave any ladies reading with one thought. I’ve worked with many men, both young and old over the past thirty five years and I’ve yet to come across a guy who liked breast implants, and yes the subject has raised it’s head upon many occasions. Btw if you’re 🙂 curious my take is why bother putting yourself through major surgery if your identified sexual partner doesn’t like them? Discuss.
There you are lol knowledge shared from me to you, we guy’s love ‘au naturel’ unenhanced breasts whatever their size shape and ‘squidgyness’ so ladies please don’t ever assume we don’t.
If a sober guy looks at your bosom, tell him to “please stop” and 98% will.
I have a brief tale to tell though before you ask, because I know you are curious! NO I didn’t take these lady’s photos, most definitely not but if you’re a prolific Google imager like myself then you never know what you will discover if you search hard enough.
😋 She fit’s my post!
🤔 Perhaps a cautionary tale though, goes to show ladies have to be very aware of men and their digital cameras, lean forward ‘snap’ and the boobs are on the internet!…………….. But not to worry, I’m using this lady both for a genuine reason and I’m assured she’s an anonymous D list celebrity? Hmm lol “I’m sayin nothin!”
Within my more thoughtful posts I have touched on the serious subject of sexual harassment, with the after #MeToo fallout very much in focus, well I have a true tale which I think throws up some interesting talking points.
Several weeks ago I was chatting to a young lad at work who said he’d been out drinking with three friends the evening before, turns out the sun was shining so all four were sat outside around a wooden table in the Pub’s garden…………. a very British pastime, every Public House will have it’s own small garden or terrace for patrons to enjoy.
So these four lads were quietly drinking beer at their table, all very civilised none were drunk or being rowdy or loud, they were I’m told chatting being sociable and having a laugh. All good fun and every so often a barmaid would visit their table for I guess empty glasses, take a bar food order or bring more drinks, then my friend tells me as the barmaid was leaning over their wooden table handing out pints of beer she said,
“Will you four stop trying to look down my blouse!”,
He went on to give more clarity to his tale, she wasn’t p#ssed the lads and barmaid were on very friendly terms, their interactions were all proper and above board and I’d guess being as she was a barmaid and they were lads I’d guess there was plenty of flirting and light hearted banter, after she’d err told them to stop I’d guess knowing my work colleague there’d have been amused protestations such as,
😉 “WHAT me?” (His words).
With ladles of wounded pride thrown in to good measure, and the way he shared his tale nothing more was said end of, certainly no Police were summoned or the Head Publican called to eject the lads from the premises, no the lady was quite aware they were peeking and for sure the lads were trying to glance down her open blouse…………….. I know for certain most men would!………. Now I realise ‘man hating lesbian feminists’ will disagree with what I am about to say,
“But don’t you think the barmaid handled the situation in exactly the right way?”
Btw I am also a feminist!
If she’d been getting increasingly tired of the lad’s furtive attention wasn’t warning the four 18yr teens enough? Yes the Pub garden is her very own workplace but there wasn’t any need to create a scene, the group and herself were all getting on fine, friendly and no doubt sexuality and the (adult) drinking atmosphere affected everyone’s behaviour, my friend saw the humour and the barmaid let it be known who was in charge……….. everyone had a giggle, the Pub didn’t lose four future paying customers and no scene or drama was created.
Ok I’d agree if you said my example of inappropriate behaviour is unique as every scenario will be, for one a drinking establishment barmaid won’t be any shrinking violet, she’d know exactly the right way to handle groups of leery lads who were overstepping the mark anyways you decide, I’ve met tiny barmaids who could eject fighting men just by a strength of personality.
Never argue with a p#ssed and angry woman, you’ll lose!!!
There of course could be an argument put forward by a certain British Police Commissioner that ladies should dress appropriately because short dresses can lead to unwanted attention, hmm who’s he blaming?
But I have a feeling the majority of right minded thinking adults agreed he was talking out of his arse and I’d hope his wife and daughters, if he had any, would have put him straight namely the fact a woman is assaulted isn’t her own fault, wear an open collared blouse if you wish AND I would add if a guy try’s to look down at your goodies, tell him to “get lost” or “please stop”.
And he will. Also.
If you’re in an underground train carriage and a guy attaches his grubby fingers to your ‘sweet lil ass’, tell him to “keep your hands to yourself!” And shout as loudly as you can so everyone else can hear you!
Confidence is key?
Okay I understand every case of sexual impropriety is different to another and further this blog isn’t a political platform only my own thoughts and observations, so what are mine?
For what it’s worth my own thoughts after hearing my colleagues Pub garden tale, was the barmaid handled herself correctly, the four decent hard working lads were warned and next time would hopefully be less obvious and take greater care when trying to look down a female’s open blouse!
No harm was done discuss!
Finally I’m here to say human beings are sexual animals, a woman will look at a man’s bulge in his trousers, a guy will look at a woman’s cleavage…………… you have to accept because that’s called ‘the way of the world’.
Early evening thoughts and now in comments tell me what you think please. 🤔
I have just returned from seeing my dentist and I’m feeling elated, on cloud nine my brain experiencing a legal chemical induced high and I know why. Anxiety consumed my mind as I pushed through the door into Mr Coull’s dental surgery, if that’s correct phrase, he does the examination cleans what little staining there is on the teeth with a jet of high pressure water, gives them a polish then says ,
“They look fine Andrew”, sporting his friendly smile such a charming man, soon followed with,
“I’ll see you in nine months, take care”.
And minutes later I leave his Practice yes feeling near ecstatic. You’ll all understand why visiting a dentist is so damn worrisome, first any work that has to be done is frigging expensive some people can cancel their annual holiday because a bill can be so expensive, secondly any work done is frigging painful, and lastly this is probably just the beginning of treatment because your teeth are on a downward spiral with dentures on the horizon………… yes I’m near orgasmic.
Examination over I walk straight for the supermarket with adrenalin and dopamine altering my mind and how I view the world, so strange it HAS TO be related to a body’s pleasure giving chemicals? Why else can you one minute be feeling utter sh#t then ten minutes later acting like your veins have taken a syringe of heroin? (Hypothetically speaking)
Anyways that’s not the only reason for tonight’s impromptu post. I had been extra worried today because several weeks ago my father, the one suffering memory problems, had Mr Coull extract umpteen teeth and he had a full mouthful!.
So let’s rewind my tale to first sitting in Hamish’s examination reclining chair, now comfortable I asked him,
“You’re my father’s dentist, several weeks ago you took 10 teeth out, does that mean bad teeth are hereditary and the same will happen to me?”
(Forgot to say I bumped into my Mum in the waiting room she’s broken a tooth! £256 for a crown, forgot to ask her how).
Back to my anxious question,
“Are bad teeth hereditary?”
“No Andrew, I cannot say to much because of patient confidentiality, but your father’s problem stems from drinking tea and coffee laced with sugar”.
I knew this of course in fact I’ve known he drank near hot syrup for the last 40 years”
Hamish Coull continued, “The reason is sugary drinks, however sugar isn’t the problem, let me explain, hypothetically if you ate a whole packet of biscuits straight off your mouth would soon recover as saliva neutralises plaque acid and you’d be back to normal.”
Hmm never heard that one before and he’s my dentist I thought to myself, fascinating insight.
He went further and I’m riveted.
“Regarding sugary hot drinks, the problems begin because it takes about half an hour to drink a cup of coffee, you take a mouthful, your mouth is acid filled for a few minutes and just as saliva is about to kick in, do it’s job, you take another sugary mouthful and as a consequence over that half hour your mouth has been filled with sugar and plaque acid for the whole time”.
“That’s why such a person would have ten decayed teeth taken out in one go!”
And there’s MORE bad news!
“I see the problem starting in young children because they’ll buy a tin of coke and then sip. Sip. Sip, and for ten minutes their teeth never recover from a prolonged acid attack!”
(That’s Sugar Free Coke for me from now on!)
Well all I can say is I wanted to share Mr Coull’s advice to my Readers, because tonight is the very first time I’ve heard the basic reason for tooth decay described in one short brilliant analogy by an expert (who my mum has a crush on!) Seems you can eat a whole packet of biscuits and be fine, but sip sugary drinks for half an hour and all your teeth will rot and be expensively painfully extracted.
Remember a tale for adults, all very tame ‘stuff ‘and NSFW.
‘I was tired from traveling bewildered with nowhere to sleep, the choice was stark a park bench for the night or him, so I chose him relieved to be safe at last.’
I guess an emotional shock heightens sharpens the senses and I remember every detail, he’d taken a chance just as he probably did every evening, he was a lovely guy, a gentleman, he didn’t force himself upon me which I’ll forever be grateful for, I could easily have been raped only to end my days as dismembered body parts in an unknown grave, a missing person never heard of again. Understand he was a nice guy!
Nervously I crept out of his en-suite bathroom wearing only a towel round my waist, clasping clothes bundled in my arms, my comfort blanket, I’d just had a lovely warm and pleasant shower only to be faced by the French guy standing naked a few paces from me. And to say I was startled no shocked is possibly the biggest understatement ever, we’d never spoken simply because my French was non existent and he spoke very little English, call him Gallic relaxed confident, and although nervous and a little fearful I didn’t panic, I’m a good judge of character and he’d been a lovely guy this whole evening.
In fact he’d been a perfect gentleman ever since picking me up at the Station, but beneath my very invigorating hot shower I’d slowly come to my senses, I finally understood he’d been more than very friendly striking up that conversation in the waiting room, he’d been cruising, I’d been picked up! The penny had dropped whilst hot water cascaded down my slim pink body, and I knew as I’d suspected, at long last I was sure he was gay.
Having showered, clutching clothes bundled in my arms I nervously stepped out the shower and walked into his en suite bedroom, omfg there my Frenchman stood like a statue in the doorway, all pink and naked and possibly the biggest fright of my life ‘gulp!’
I’m not at work. It’s raining outside. So why not write a post?
On any given evening, by the time I’m ready to turn in for bed only one all consuming thought will be on my mind,perhaps I should re phrase, yes I’ll be brooding reflecting on several but only one shocking story will accompany me to sleep.
Brooding is the worst, preparing myself for the next days hassles I’ll face at ‘blank’, a ‘blank’ full of his own self importance, his personality traits verging on narcissistic, classic inflated ego traits with delusions of grandeur and a ridiculous misconception that he is attractive to women. Jeeze at age # and chasing after 18yr old Virginal students (🤔 questionable) is sad to the point of creepy we’ll watch open mouthed staggered with,
“Is he serious they suck up to you for one reason so as he’ll complete their…….” we say to ourselves,
Yes they’ll bring broken bikes into be fixed but little do they know he sniffs the saddles soon after they’ve gone, do women have any comprehension this goes on? Does the thought ever cross their mind that men will put a nose to their saddles hoping to smell intimate feminine odours?
I don’t! Never have! Never will!!!
I’m digressing but a fascinating case all the same.
At the end of the day several thoughts will be on my mind, problems I’ll face tomorrow, hassles I’ve encountered that day, family issues that have to be faced up to, my father’s health is a frigging nightmareand the overriding days disaster that’s hit a part of the globe.
If there’s only one certainty in life it’s that one single awful shocking catastrophe has occurred today! Or as in yesterday, being a section of Italian motorway and bridge disappearing taking 39 people’s lives along with it, the longer I live the more I’m convinced life is but a matter of luck and chance. One of the images of that disaster I’ll probably remember will be that stationary truck stopped but meters from the roads end, 2 seconds later and both lorry and driver would be underneath rubble coming to rest in a stream.
Luck and chance!
Jeeze the number of posts I’ve written in draft themed, life is a matter of how lucky we are to avoid something anything, and how a life s direction can change simply by chance, bump into a lady in the supermarket and 3 months later you could be standing alongside her dressed in white, you about to put a ring on her finger.
Luck and chance!
Thoughts of tomorrows problems, family issues, a world disaster will accompany to bed AND one quirky unusual darn right creepy story that’s been on my mind ever since I first heard this sorry tale as I did today.
The true story, is true because I trust the BBC never to publish fake news, a young Romanian woman’s account of the day she’d been snatched from the street, bundled into a car and driven to the north of England, locked in a suburban house for nine months and forced to prostitute her body for sex.
Yes she’d been seconds away from entering the front door of her house, the key inside the lock then hours later she was having to endure the hellish existence of men she didn’t want having sex with her. From the time she was captured to the day she’d been rescued this European citizen working in London had been in effect raped by 1000 men……… I guess ghoulishly compounded by the fact every penny had been taken by her captors, yes she’d been fed but their slave had been denied medical attention because she’d bled many times.
That human beings are enslaved in third world countries I’d read about, and accepted as drawback of living in an ‘uncivilized’ country, that a young woman is pulled off a busy London street and driven to a house for men’s depraved sexual pleasure was honestly shocking, one because Britain is a prosperous country with laws an excellent police force, two because well Britain is a moral and safe place to live.
Then I had the sudden realisation, a cold shudder down the spine moment, how many more young women are right now living in housing estates across Britain, being raped daily and worse still may never be lucky enough to escape or only when they’re no longer of use!
Hmm scary thoughts as I went to bed, if I had a daughter living alone in a far away British city I may at that very moment make a phone call check, enforce rules, warn and lay the law down………. well I haven’t but you get the idea, but is enslaving human beings a new phenonium in England?
Of course not 200 years ago in Victorian England brothel owners would visit stagecoach stations looking out for young naïve country farm girls, attracted to the bright lights of London hoping to work as chamber maids for nice decent city families. However I’ve read a very different tale of one notorious well-known London madam, an infamous criminal who would meet those coaches arriving from deepest rural England, who would trick the girls into coming home with promises of a safe bed for the night, yet little did they know the bedroom meant years of disease ridden sex work.
So what has all this to do me? Nothing only last night that shocking thought was sex slavery still goes on.
(I haven’t seen Christopher Robin as of yet, I’ve heard it’s very good so I’m 🙂 sure I will)
A home Town (may be mine) every year plays host to the World Poohsticks Championships, and yes I’m rather proud even if the event is just a bit of fun. 🙂 03/06/2018 to be exact.
Btw, The Championships are taken seriously and Money is raised for Charity! (The photo below was taken a few days in advance)
Below E. H. Shepard’s original drawing of Christopher Robin and Winnie The Pooh playing Poohsticks from Pooh Bridge, the photograph of the bridge is to be found on Langel common………. incidentally bridging the River Windrush!
And yes I realise this ISN’T the true Pooh Bridge from literature, but for some reason the ‘Rotary Club’ changed location……….. possibly something to do with car parking issues?…….. No matter the day is fun packed with live music and stalls so no one minds
Now reading the banner at the entrance to the common, lol see I’m not telling fibs 😀 my Town hosts it’s very own World Championships, and I should add walking beside Langel common’s long grasses brought on a sneezing fit………… my (blank) hay fever!
Confused? Then please read on.
(As an aside I met an old friend on the day with her young Granddaughter, even at 70yrs Rosemary’s still a good looking woman, her eyes ACTUALLY sparkled in the sunlight)
Wow to think my English rural Town stages a World Championships is quite something and better still the afternoon’s event has absolutely nothing to do with a Sport involving balls now that’s impressive! On the Sunday of which I speak children descended to the common coming from miles around to play a game first written about in in 1928 by author A. A. Milne, and that children are competing in a game taken straight from children’s literature is something to be truly celebrated……….. don’t you agree?
That the day’s fun has nothing to do with action superheroes, ‘nonsense’ names in AI video games or overpaid Sportspersons and their balls should be applauded.
Now as I said, aficionados will know the game of Poohsticks was originally played on a footbridge across in Posingford Wood, but not to worry, my Town is famous for holding a World Championships and I think that’s fabulous and pretty cool.
(OK lol it’s not quite the Olympics but I DO try hard on my Blog)
Now 🙂 do I really have to explain how the game of Poohsticks is played seeing as you are all writer’s on a blogging platform, remembering Winnie The Pooh and his little band of chums is a classic book written for children? Of course not, you’ve probably read yourself as a child, read it aloud to your children or grandchildren it’s a wonderful story that’s captured imaginations for decades (and many more)…………. hmm I may even read again one day, and why not?
Ok you’ve twisted my arm, I’m at a loose end this afternoon so why not write about Winnie The Pooh without plagiarising that damned Wikipedia! (I’m probably breaking umpteen copyrights showing these pictures but I make NO money from blogging!)
The actual story can be found in the book ‘The House on Pooh Corner’.
Winnie The Pooh Christopher Robin and his friends hang over the rail of one side of the bridge……….. safely I might add!! Each or them holds a stick importantly owned only to themselves, they each drop their stick at the very same time then rush to the opposite side of the bridge, hang over and note SAFELY if you’re ever going to try, then wait and watch until the sticks come into view.
Remember I said each with a stick recognisable to themselves, well the first stick that comes into view wins! And if you yourselves play for heavens sake take care and staySAFE!
Lol aren’t you a tiny bit envious of my Town 😀 seeing as you are all writers? Only joking but the tale is still pretty cool and do you know what, I’m going to throw a stick off the bridge one day on the way to work!!
‘Today’s post is a response to ‘LA’ over at Waking up on the wrong side of 50, a slightly irreverent, thought provoking, funny and always entertaining Lady. I’m the first to admit my tales break creative writing rules though I HAVE learnt a few tricks over the months 😉 , anyways LA has intrigued me with her thoughts of creative writing and well her post nudged my mind into remembering this story about the author Roald Dahl………… and his fascinating insight into the use of adjectives!’
Hmm, I wonder what Roald Dahl’s thoughts on text speak would be? Especially the word LOL 😀 .
The time I’ve spent searching the internet trying to find the letter below……………. (shaking his head in frustration!)……… lol 🙂 ages that’s how long, but seeing as I’m sharing a few thoughts on creative writing I was determined to seek out Roald Dahl’s advice for ALL teller’s of short stories, this 2015 article I’d read many months ago and was determined to find…………. note as you’d expect typewriter written!
I’ve never forgotten Roald’s letter (above) posted back to a young fan who sent him a short story he himself had written, and I love the line ‘surely it is better to say“she was a tall girl with a big bosom” than “she was a tall girl with a shapely, prominent bosom”, or some such rubbish. The first one says it all.‘
(Is Dahl ‘showing’ us her boobs leaving the shape and size to OUR imagination, rather than ‘telling’ us exactly what they are?)
For some unknown reason Dahl’s acerbic advice is now imprinted into my imagination, and what is SO wrong with ‘shapely and prominent’? Forget her tits for a second, the fact Dahl has scant regard for descriptive adjectives has ALWAYS fascinated.
So all this talk of creative storytelling prompted the topic of writing novels! Do I have one inside me?
Life is full of many universally known phrases whichever your chosen language, I’m referring to sayings rather than inspirational quotes a genre I’m not keen on only because I’m an idle unmotivated bugger!!! But if quotes work for you that’s fabulous, perhaps I should try?
Returning to recognisable phrases and one particularly noteworthy ‘gem’ of advice and interest to WordPress blogger’s, how do I know? Because I’ve read their thoughts on the matter, so here is the universally acknowledged saying of which I speak!
“Each one of us has a Novel inside them!”
Hmm so ‘Andrew’ do I have a novel waiting to be born into this world?
Note the word Novel because we ALL have stories to tell, my blog has many tales of the afternoons spent consensually making love to women (I have 3 more to come!) I cannot speak for everyone but I find writing life stories flow quite easily, I visualise the setting and just put those mind’s thoughts to ‘paper’.………. whether the tale is any frigging good is a whole different question.
So here I return to Roald’s critical advice posted to a young fan and note ‘Jay’ was far from upset, in fact the young lad became a journalist saying he’s quite literally lived his working life by those words…………….. so I got to thinking should I be SO afraid of attempting to write a book when Dahl is SO dismissive of the over use of descriptive language.
I adore Thomas Hardy for his wonderful descriptions of rural England, but jeeze Hardy can be near tortuous difficult reading, I persevere simply because of the sheer brilliance of Chapter One in ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’.
But being serious for a second I ask do each of us have a book inside us? Printable into hard copy, purchasable in a bookshop for actual pounds and pence? Worthy enough to be stocked upon the shelves in a library or deemed such a fun read that you’d share and tell a friend? Hmm yes we all have books within us, Amazon is filled with them poetry humour fun reads but as for a novel I don’t think so simply because I like many people have glaring gaping holes in creative writing, I cannot tell you which but I know for certain I have .
Importantly I have a suspicion serious novel writing has to be fun much the same as blogging because if you don’t enjoy the process then why bother 🙂 ❤
On reflection I don’t have a novel inside, short sexy stories yes but a novel? No I’ve some lessons to learn before attempting that…………….. but you go for it LA, I promise I’ll buy. Novels appear to be a labour of love as all great hobbies should be, they’re difficult to write, structures genres and rules to abide by, but if I didn’t have to share my work with a teacher or classmates then I know I’d enjoy learning how to write creatively.
To wrap up this post I’ll leave you with thoughts of character driven dialogue versus descriptive scene setting, now there’s a writing conundrum if ever I read one.
(After writing this post I stopped by a Roald Dahl fan website and read extracts from his various books, and all I can say is the man was a genius storyteller……… and using a typewriter with NO spellcheck!!………. I’d be f#####d without spellcheck!)
A reflective Post this evening, makes a welcome change and good or bad I can guarantee my blog will never be one theme, I’ve enjoyed writing this 🙂 .
I look at Czesława Kwoka’s Auschwitz registration photograph time and time again, her haunting expression isn’t unique, the many other prisoner photos being colourised so magnificently are equally as haunting and devoid of ALL human emotion.
I look at her, and I wish I could do this post justice, convey how I’ve been feeling whilst reading her true horror story. However I fear I don’t have the breadth of descriptive language and yes I think I lack an ability to convey the upsetting emotions I’m feeling…………. I’ll write you humorous posts all day long of tales sleeping with women BUT serious issues I struggle with and that makes me very angry. And for once I break copyrighted photographs legally, Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum don’t mind, I’d guess the reason is because we should never forget man will imprison the innocent, is capable of murder and when you have the sick enigma of concentration camp deniers, you have to allow the photos to be used for good kind and appropriate reasons, then hopefully we never forget.
Several years ago I saw a British TV documentary challenging Holocaust deniers, the truly scary part was these deluded people with an agenda appeared to be like you and I? Like I said scary and truly frightening not knowing one could be a work colleague.
You may be thinking Andrew why are you beating yourself up over this, not many people read you and if you don’t enjoy writing this post don’t! I’d answer lol I know, secondly this Blog is for me to read and yes I’ll enjoy the creative process of at least trying to.
I guess an answer would be, several days ago journalists released photos of children separated from their parents caged behind steel fencing AND under bright spotlights 24hrs a day 😮 ! Yes Trump says he’ll backtrack on this problem he created but it’s so so easy for lessons from the past to be forgotten, Czesława died behind Auschwitz fencing 1943 by phenol lethal injection into her heart, she was age 17, her mother had been murdered one month earlier.
🙂 I’m not comparing Trump to Nazism, steel wire fencing seemed to fit that’s all.
The first time I came across ‘Faces of Auschwitz’ was recently in my Reader, are they personalised posts or does everyone. Briefly for I’m not going to repeat, this project is a collaboration between the Auschwitz-Birkenau Museum, an amazing digital colourist Marina Amaral all with the one aim of preserving 38,000 photos from over 1,000,000 innocent prisoners who died. A team of academics, journalists and volunteers created ‘Faces of Auschwitz’ to honour the lives of Auschwitz-Birkenau prisoners, and colourising their registration photos truly brings their individual stories to life.
My parents many years ago visited Auschwitz whilst holidaying in Eastern Europe and my father at the time being a secondary school history teacher, you can imagine this horrific example of the awful depravity human beings are capable of affected him, to torture and murder another human being with a total absence of conscience is hard to accept. That there appeared to be no collective conscience to me is worrying for all our futures………………. mankind is truly a dangerous and complex living breathing animal how did we reach a point in time where murdering a child was accepted.
Czesława 26947 looking tired malnourished and resigned to her lot, yet her eyes are alive and revealing, a very different stare in each photo! If she’d lived in London 2018 she’d be a student or a happy face waitressing in a restaurant, serving in a bar or whatever…………….. The life we live is purely an accident of birth and nothing to do with Gods.
Why have I chosen Czesława registration photograph above all others? On reflection I’ve chosen her above many others because of her eyes in the centre face on picture, she’s not looking at the camera though at first glance I thought so simply because all others are!
Those eyes tell me Czesława is looking at SOMEONE and she’s wary anxious, that person’s in authority and to be listened to! I’d guess that someone is in charge of this sick registration, a catalogue of 1,000,000 faces soon to die. She has the gaze not of a victim (and time and time again I keep looking at her photo my brain stumbling around for words to describe how I feel) Czesława’s eyes neither hide fear distress or foreboding which on reflection most other prisoners don’t either so I guess they’re resigned to life inside a death camp, the young lady understands yet she cannot comprehend why these people think they are human.
My guess only, my best attempt at describing this wonderful photo, but her eyes speak more than I can put down in text and skilful colourising has transformed an already haunting photo…………….. don’t you agree?
I’ll never be able to answer who she’s looking at, and I’d guess not the photographer! This is pre digital, the camera’s mechanical, the photographer is finger on trigger looking through the lens, no I have the overpowering feeling this young lady is highly intelligent, understands exactly what an SS Officer is instructing her to do, she’s looking at authority following order’s with an anxious concentration. Hmm I’ve tried my best, Czesława’s haunting eyes are directly looking at someone yet devoid of revealing all but a knowing concentration that’s how I emotionally react to this picture, a stunning image for many reasons not least Marina Amaral is a truly gifted digital colourist, apparently crowned ‘the master of photo colourisation’ by WIRED Magazine and she’s truly done the prisoners justice.
She also has a book out.
I’ll finish this post telling you what little is known of Czesława . She was born in Wólka Złojecka Poland, on August 15, 1928 and born a Roman Catholic obviously her mother Katarzyna’s faith, I’d forgotten Jews weren’t the only people to be murdered in Auschwitz. Czesława and her mother were arrested as political prisoners in the town of Zamość, located in Nazi-occupied Poland on December 13, 1942. It was then during processing by KL Auschwitz’s Nazi SS administrators, Czesława and Katarzyna were assigned prisoner numbers 26947 and 26946, respectively. I guess we count ourselves lucky 38,000 remain because all the rest were burnt by the fleeing guards.
Both died behind a fence in Auschwitz!
‘Faked news’, I’ll say nothing of President Trump because my own Country’s politicians equally excel at feeding the public lies, jeeze they’ve ALL got their f#cking Twitter feeds! But ‘faked news’ is far from amusing I have little people for relatives, I asked one to give me her views of what fake news meant because believe it or not at school she’s actually taught in class the tricks to spotting fake news! Don’t you think that’s so terribly sad? The internet was supposed to be this great exchange of ideas for the betterment of mankind instead it’s a conduit for supplying pornography, laundering money and turning true stories into lies then regurgitating and altering into fake news for political agenda! So very sad if the true story of Birkenau Auschwitz, man’s ability to murder is changed and edited in such a way that future children believe it never happened.