I know I haven’t been around for a while, long story but not to worry.
Oh yes! A woman flashed her cotton panties at me today, so I’m wondering was lifting her dress accidental as I walked toward her, little more than her preoccupied wistful mind elsewhere, or lol was I the victim of a sexual assault? BECAUSE being serious for a second if I was to pull my trousers down in public, in full view of a pretty young woman walking toward me then I’d have some serious explaining to a Court Judge!
Nah of course not, pretty women can flash me their underwear to their young heart’s content.
I had intended to write a Post featuring the work of 1950s artist ‘Art Frahm’, why an earth would he wish to paint young women in distress at the point of her panties having slipped down shapely legs? What’s more at the most inopportune moment and in full gaze of bemused ‘lucky’ guys, talk about women in distress! Without Googling the reasons why? (I never do) I’m lost for words apart from a woman’s letter posted to a magazine’s editor, apparently this scenario was prone to happen in 50’s America simply because knicker elastic wasn’t as strong as it should have been!
Hmm, I’m NOT convinced.
Where was I? Oh yes I’ll never forget today’s young lady DELIBERATELY showing me her panties, a photographic image now hardwired into my memory for as long as I live……… hence the reason I had to write a blog along with all my other sexy stories.
Cutting a short story even shorter (busy lives and all), today has been Britain’s hottest day this year, hence lunchtime break I just had to wander into Oxford City centre and women watch (judge me 😀 ) well I’d gotten but 50 metres from my workplace and what did I see on this gloriously humid sunny day? A young woman suddenly stopped 20 paces in front of me, there’s more! In one near choreographed movement, she lifted a hand toward her head removing a pair of spectacles, the finger’s of her other hand clasping the hem of a girly pastel dress, and wonderful for Andrew she lifted said dress in full view and proceeded to clean her obviously dirty glasses with the soft cotton fabric, and above her frigging WAIST I might add!
And yes TOTALLY unaware (?) this middle aged guy was but paces away gazing incredulously at her light blue pair of panties and long slender legs!
Life is a game of luck and chance and today was my lucky day.
I know I could hardly believe my eyes, still can’t, how I didn’t pass out there and then God only knows. Now with spectacle’s freshly cleaned, dress hem released and allowed to fall, the glasses were reposition affront a pretty face and she continued to wander past me as if the incident had never happened, there was no hint of a sweet smile, nope she didn’t even make eye contact, her unfazed expression betraying wistful thoughts and a mind elsewhere?
I must admit I’m at a loss as to why any woman would lift her dress in public, reveal her underwear with mobile phones camera’s poised to send an image viral. Who knows why, perhaps there are people in this world who LUCKILY don’t care what other’s think? Anyways when I retold this tale back at work to basically anyone who’d listen, their mournful envious expressions betrayed the fact they’d missed a highlight of 2019.
Seriously though, days such as these are a sobering reminder, a reality check that at age 50 young women wandering past me in the street wearing buttock flashing hot-pants, micro skirts and tight fitting crop-tops revealing shapely wobbly boobage, ‘tees’ with plunging cleavage are ALL fabulous to behold, lovely and brilliant except young lady’s such as these will be thinking to themselves,
‘Sad old man looking at my tits, you’re (nearly) old enough to be my Grandfather Mr!’
Hmm a sobering thought indeed.
(Reading this post days later I’ll admit to over excited story telling, but in my defence I’d suggest voyeuristic moments such as these are an amusing big deal in any guy’s day and make for entertaining writing. Ok?)
Laura, because we are lovers of the Apollo Moon landings I’d like to recommend a favourite book of mine titled: ‘HOW APOLLO FLEW TO THE MOON’, you may have already read it but if you haven’t I’d recommend buying the paperback version which will end up bearing the ‘wear and tear’ scars lol of my well-thumbed through edition.
(Rather than writing a synopsis I’ll include my Amazon review (below) 😮 written 2011!)
Because these `independent’ reviews are so useful I thought I’d write my own.
‘How Apollo Flew to the Moon’ is given instant credibility because Apollo astronaut David Scott wrote the Forward and for space fans do you need to know anything else? It follows a complete Apollo mission and is written like a text book in that the Chapters contain lots and lots of `sub’ Chapters which enables you to read a bit, put it down for a while and then easily pick up the story up again. I can get lost and bored with some books but this is immensely readable.
It is an excellent book if you like all the Technical and Engineering information about all the hardware and has lots of sketches photographs and photos astronauts took on the moon. But don’t be put off by that because there are loads and loads of the conversations between the astronauts as well!
Something I’ve always wondered about is how from blasting off the moon the Lander was able to find the Service Module? Well all the information about navigation trajectory and burns is here. There are even two pages of definitions for all the LM computer programs.
Most importantly there are loads of new facts, like I never knew they carried a radioactive cylinder which was taken off the outside of the LM on the moon and then placed in the ALSEP so providing its electricity.
Finally and most importantly if you ever have those tiny (2.am sleepless in bed) nagging doubts like “did we really go to the moon?” then this emphatically answers the questions. America DID put a man on the moon, who walked about its surface and then came home safely…….. not a book for the idiots who think it was all a hoax!’
(Independent eBook review, in fact the authoress isn’t aware I’ve written this 😀 )
Attempting to write my very first kindle book review after having been absent from writing on WordPress since early June, is more than a little daunting.
Novelette synopsis (age18),
‘Ebby Scott has supressed her adventurous side far too long. An almost-thirty year old almost-virgin, she is given the chance to live out a life that has hitherto existed in her vivid fantasies and in the books she keenly devours. And Ebby has stumbled across the perfect place to help her unleash her erotic appetites.
Across each of three nights, Ebby faces her past decisions, her present choices, and gains a glimpse of her possible future as her sexual adventures become ever more steamy, satisfying, and liberating.
Meanwhile, her hopeful and adoring suitor Nick waits for her back at home.By the end of her three-night escapade, will Ebby return to Nick’s loving arms, or will she be unwilling to give up her new-found freedom just yet?’
I should begin by saying I’ve followed Ms. Libre Pavey’s blog for many months now, a gentle and eloquent writer she herself describes ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ steamy romantic fiction, all I can add is she’s not wrong! I’ll go further and admit to ‘hardening’ (come on work it out!) whilst reading in my garden, several arousals if truth be told my imagination drawn into Ebby Scott’s ghostly romantic encounters. Btw I’m reliably informed the difference between erotica and steamy romance, is the latter must have a story and this novelette is most certainly steamy romance with plenty of descriptive scene setting to hold my attention. Thoughtfully constructed around an original cute idea, enough atmosphere to engage my imagination with memorable lines such as:
‘………geometric squares of leggy jasmine and delicate wands of Japanese quince creating stark silhouettes.’
And plenty of beautiful naked breasts (for as you know I am a lover of ladies squidgy pink fun bundles, a breast man through and through), with pulse quickening lines such as:
‘….…..breasts tipped with jaunty cinnamon nipples, skin turned warm caramel in the low-lit glow.’
I should say at this point, Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ is my very favourite work of fiction, in fact without fail I revisit this ghostly little tale every Christmas Eve for the past twenty-five years, and I did enjoy spotting the author’s clever parallels. Similarly written in descriptive staves with ghosts of past and present visiting Ebby’s bedroom, parallels not dissimilar to Dickens tale absent the steamy romantic sex goes without saying! As the authoress reminds us loosely based on ‘A Christmas Carol’ with even a little ‘Cinderella dancing at the ball’ thrown in, and here’s a thing being my first review I’m very conscious of not wishing to give tooo much away!
As an aside, Libre paley intrigues me because she’s one of the few ladies to dare comment my err sexually explicit posts, not only a beautifully skilled writer but I’d guess possessing a ‘naughty’ confidence, I guess I’ll never know! Hmm? Was my excited anticipation and eagerness to read because I avidly follow blogger Libre Paley, the lady being one of my favourite writers on WordPress probably heightened my reading enjoyment.
Thoughts aside, our heroine Ebby (the authoress) narrates the tale.
Ringing in my ears has been a little voice whispering “write a review but jeeze don’t give away the plot period”, and now I’m feeling perhaps I’ve sold you a little short? Not to worry, well paced sexually explicit and highly readable ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ was a most enjoyable read and £0.99 Amazon Kindle purchase well spent. 🙂
A. Shepherdson 2019 (My musings are a little ‘writing rusty’ tonight.)
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??
My apologies to William Shakespeare for adapting Prince Hamlet’s iconic phrase, (rather good though.)
My Topic for next week might well be Politics, we’ll see, as some of you are aware I haven’t voted in either General elections or Local Government elections since spring 2016, and as of now I’m undecided whether to vote this coming week.
Just be aware my abstaining wasn’t voter apathy, it was a conscious decision after Brexit.
On the 23rd may 2019 the United Kingdom’s voting public return to polling stations yet again, as if we aren’t sick to death of political elections, yes up and down this once great land we the people are being asked to vote in European elections, and the fact we voted Brexit in 2016 to leave the EU isn’t lost on anyone.
Politics! & Religion! Two topics I’ve promised to avoid discussing up until now, along with being open honest and always telling the truth on this silly little WordPress, I’m pleased to say I kept my word. One year ago I made a conscious decision to avoid political and religious issues because it’s depressing, strong dogmatic opinions upset people deeply, and however passionately someone tries to get their point across they will never win the argument.
‘Little different to an atheist trying to convince a fundamental Christian that God doesn’t exist.’
I’ve broken that Rule only once which I’m rather proud of, discussing politics in my opinion can be lazy writing, it’s as easy to rant and blow off steam and a tedious read when written poorly, yet I understand a human being’s existence is defined by his or her’s political views. So yes several months ago I wrote a post admitting I hadn’t voted in either Government or WODC elections since June 2016, incidentally I’m not proud of myself, now I’m asking myself will I cast my democratic vote on the 23rd?
To be quite honest I’m still unsure and if I do the choice may even surprise me!
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!!)
The fact Fiona used to be a Politician (in other words a professional liar) makes justice all the more sweeter 🙂 .
Once in a while and every so often, a news story amongst tens of awful tragic upsetting events you’ll read that day, this one story WILL truly lighten the heart and gladden the soul as in Fiona’s fall from grace today. Justice has seen to be done, a criminal arrest has brought about a Just conviction and we the public who daily have to listen to excuses such as:
“But I wasn’t to blame” (when they were).
Can bask in the joy that someone breaking the law, repeatedly lying to a Judge, WILL have to serve a prison sentence behind bars and young children following this ‘soap opera’ (and I know for fact one 13yr old girl WAS) will understand crime doesn’t pay, lying has consequences and you will be foundout! Haah.
I couldn’t feel happier at this moment and 99% of the British population feel the same, (except there’s always 1% of do gooders who try to spoil the fun), btw this story has nothing to do with Fiona’s ethnicity, hold that thought.)
If you live anywhere around the world other than Britain (I NO longer prefix the word Great because we’re Brexit fucked), you won’t have heard of Fiona Onasanya, the disgraced Member of Parliament for the City of Peterborough, sorry the now Ex MP for Peterborough.
This sorry story all begins several years but to bring you up to date she’d already served her one month in Prison, then after early release served a further two months tagged on her ankle at home, and bringing you up to date today the Tax paying residents for Peterborough turned out in their thousands, cast their democratic vote and deselected Fiona as their MP. Yay 😀 .
Justice has been served and I for one am gleefully unapologetically overjoyed!
Fiona lied “persistently and deliberately” to officers about who was driving her car in an attempt to avoid penalty points. (The Judge’s words in Court)
To cut a long sordid story even shorter, MP Fiona Onasanya lied to both the Police and in Court repeatedly to avoid a speeding ticket, no instead of holding her hands up ‘admitting her guilt’ paying the fine, getting on with her life because we ALL make mistakes, no instead Fiona chose say her brother was driving and all before a Jury………. he wasn’t!!
😮 And what’s more she is was a Barrister by profession, pure madness?
I’m being very fair to Fiona, I wish her no harm, but as an MP representing her Constitutants there’s no place for lying to the tax paying public, a heinous crime every parent instructs their children is wrong, where would society be if we all lied, all of the time?
Well Fiona then ‘dug her hole even deeper’, instead of stepping down she chose to remain a sitting MP whilst in Prison, continued drawing a wage which really tipped Peterborough voters over the edge into full blown apoplectic rage (you should have listened to Radio ‘phone in’s’) and there our tale ends after she refused to resign triggering a de-selection petition.
Well several days ago more than 7,000 voters signed petitions at ’10’ signing stations and Fiona was kicked out of Office, she brought about her own downfall! This solicitor could have admitted her mistake, paid the fine and all would be well in her world once the ensuing fuss had died down.
Race has no baring on my opinions, in fact if she’d been white the sentence would have been harsher of that I have NO doubt……….. and yes me gloating is an unattractive quality.
(As promised I’ve a literary historical photography post for you today, yes the Great man himself Charles Dickens.)
13th APR 2019 I day-tripped to London by bus, changed onto the Underground taking the train to visit the Home lived in by Dickens for two years of his life, years later in 1925 the home was purchased then transformed into a museum, and now a ‘time capsule‘ revealing how Victorian homes actually looked inside.
The front door of 49 Doughty Street, now entrance to the museum in Dickens time owned by solicitor Henry Pickards, is a magnificent terraced residential home only 5 minutes walk from Farringdon Tube Station, comprising three floors, a scullery kitchen basement, and also a ‘loft’ we tourists weren’t allowed to ‘peek’ inside.
Read my ticket date above, “just sayin”. The map I’m also holding is printed from the internet, a free publication describing in detail ‘walking tour’ directions from Dickens Home all the way to St. Pauls Cathedral (a British jewel of historical architecture), incidentally showing a ‘route’ considerably longer than I’d first imagined!!
Alas virtually all of Dickensian London has been lost to years of redevelopment, both progress also a consequence of rebuilding this great City after 4 years of Hitler carpet bombing homes, buildings and factories by his Luftwaffe……….. what was the point to this monstrous vandalism? You tell me, on second thoughts please don’t! The truly surprising no unbelievable fact is Christopher Wren’s St. Pauls cathedral survived intact, incredible!
(There is a reason why, long story.)
On first walking through the front door to number 48, I was under no illusion I would be staying no longer than 1 hour, Dickens little known Museum is strictly for quiet thoughtful souls who wish to experience the Victorian atmosphere knowing this great man shared meals with his wife and children, wrote tales at his desk in the drawing room, endlessly climbed three flights of stairs the entire day (two up one down) and yes made love to Catherine in the master bedroom……………….. well come on yes he did!
Belowyou see amap essential to making ‘head and tale’ of today’s post, look carefully and both a floor showing three levels including the basement, also the various rooms inside 48 Doughty Street London, incidentally I was charged a very reasonable £9 entrance fee. Enter through blue door number 49, then once inside walk through a door into number 48 their family home.
1 Entrance Hall
The busy household passed back and forth on errands and social visits. Dickens often made, sometimes nightly, walks through the City he called his ‘magic lantern’. His neighbours were professionals, architects, writer and artists. yet the law courts, workhouses and slums fuelled his writing were but a short walk away.
(Remember Dickens was both a social and prison reformer, his father had been earlier locked up in a debtors prison, and Dickens would himself demonstrate outside Newgate Prison situated a mile up the road, in fact he was instrumental in having prisoner hangings moved to behind prison walls to the public’s disappointment!)
2 Dining Room
The location and grand architecture of the house was ideal for launching Dickens socially. This elegantly curved room played a key role. As a rising author enjoying his first flush of success, he entertained many leading figures here.
Pictured above, a dining table and bowl displaying any number of ‘plastic fruit’, Dickens bust hanging from a wall, and a lovely young lady tour guide wearing a very becoming ‘black and red’ check shirt! And yes I made a point of chatting to her 🙂 because I’m very friendly that way 😛 .
Remarking “you seem very tired” as she yawned 😮 , the young lady smiling answered “yes I am”, then standing one foot on the bottom staircase, hand resting upon the banister about to climb up, I turned grinning and said “this way to the bedrooms?” Well she actually laughed out loud finding my enquiring rather amusing (or because she was Dickens bored), all good flirty fun 🙂 don’t you think? You gotta at least try and make women laugh even if SHE IS thinking ‘jeeze he’s old enough to be my father!!’ 😀
3 Morning room
Catherine Dickens used this family room to arrange household matters, spend time with the children, welcome visitors and write letters. As a Dickens travelled often, much of their daily communication was in writing. Surviving letters show their happiness as a couple then.
Stepping into the second ground floor room I’m now standing in Dickens Morning room, as I said earlier I wasn’t under any illusions, there’d only be so much to actually see wandering around someone else’s home, but standing in his writing room is quite a magical experience, standing affront Charles’ writing desk reading a page written in his own hand, knowing he possibly quill penned tales of Scrooge and Tiny Tim, Oliver Twist and Fagin, Pip and Miss Havisham possibly three of the greatest tales ever written, I truly sensed the standing on hallowed ground feeling or is that a little pretentious?
That desk sits affront a window probably because rays of natural sunlight are considerably brighter than the gas lights hanging from the morning room wall, I can attest to the rooms gloominess and the reason why my photos are slightly grainy……….. Tourists are banned from using a camera’s flash!
(Descend one flight of stairs into the kitchen.)
The servants prepared the family food here, managed by Catherine Dickens, the mistress of the house. Traders came in and out with supplies. Victorian Kitchens were often low lit, home to vermin, and filled with heat and smoke from the cook’s fire.
Above 5 photos: The ‘cast iron’ cooking range, a dresser displaying china plates, looking upwards through a window onto Doughty Street, looking back through a doorway towards the Washhouse, and glass bottles standing on a shelf.
…….. and who knows what evil chemicals they contained in Victorian times?
5 & 6 Scullery and Washhouse
The maid washed clothes and dishes here, and cleaned around the house on a demanding schedule. Dickens’s sympathetic portrayal of servants endeared him to domestic staff around the country.
7 Wine cellar
Dickens wrote about both the pleasures and harmfulness of drink. At home, he kept a good cellar to lavish his guests.
8 Drawing room
As a child, Dickens improvised performances for friends and family. As an adult, he delighted in hosting amateur theatricals. In a later home, he had a rom made into what he called ‘The smallest Theatre in the World’. From the 1850s he would take his book readings to the public stage, becoming a celebrated solo performer.
9 Dickens’s study
Dickens had a strict routine, writing without distraction from breakfast to lunch. Then he might visit his Club, work on one of his charitable projects or take a long walk. He filled this room with a vast collection of books.
Below looking out upon the rear garden, and at current London property market prices helped by number 48’s provenance, I’d suggest this home is worth 2 digit £1,000,000s?
Above two notable and extremely famous artist prints hanging from a wall, to the left Dickens a middle aged man seated in a chair. To the right the Ghost of Christmas PRESENT seated upon an enormous pile of presents, clutching a lantern of Christmas spirit in one hand, and lecturing Scrooge as to the error of his ways!
….………….then again he could reminding Scrooge that phantom number three, the grim reaper incarnate follows sooon!!
Staircase (Between First floor & Second floor)
Below, photos pointing upwards to the master bedrooms & looking back into the Drawing room.
10 Mary Hogarth’s bedroom
Dickens experienced one of the most upsetting events of his life here, the death of Catherine’s’ sister Mary Hogarth. She was s 17 years old and apparently in good health. The shock devastated the family. Dickens struggled to accept the loss of someone he considered pure and good. The sentimentality of death scenes he later wrote is rooted in that traumatic even.
11 Master bedroom
While living here, Catherine Dickens gave birth to Mary and Katy. She would go on to have 10 children by 1852. Dickens separated from Catherine in1858. But when they lived here, they were largely contented and shared this bedroom.
Pictured below, and standing beside the Master bedroom four poster bed could be Catherine Dickens herself looking out the window onto Doughty Street. On the bed you see laid out garments of period clothing, whether the stockings belong to Charles or Catherine I have no idea………… but I can tell you two of their children were conceived here, yes Victorian sexual intercourse!!
(I’ve often mused ‘did Charles visit local side streets and sample the infamous Victorian ‘two penny knee trembler? Don’t be tooo shocked upstanding fine gentlemen visit brothels!)
Hmm pictures above remind me of that ghostly little book ‘A Christmas Carol’ once again, remember a frightened Scrooge sitting upon his four poster bed, the curtains drawn around to keep the three spirits at bay, no? Well why not go read this wonderful novel and see for yourself 🙂 .
Incidentally, I read ‘A Christmas Carol’ on Christmas Eve every single year.
Pictured above, is yes a reflection of myself taking a photograph towards the dressing wardrobe mirror………… alas my youthful head of hair is a ‘long ago’ distant memory!
12 Dickens dressing room
Dickens washed, shaved and dressed here. In 1840 the historian Thomas Carlyle described Dickens as clothed fashionably rather than ‘well’. This ‘fine fellow, Boz’, he wrote loftily, has ‘clear blue intelligent eyes’ and a ‘face of the most extreme mobility’ topped with a ‘loose coil of common-coloured hair’.
13 & 14 Nursery and Servants’ bedroom
The attic was the domain of the children (Charles Junior, Mary and Katy) as well as the servants, away from the more public spaces of the house.
I didn’t take any photographs of either the Dressing room, Nursery or Servants bedroom, there’s only so much culture you can ‘snap’ in one day.
If you are happily married, or happily co-habiting, you may find this post morally challenging though hopefully not, as always it’s just Andrew thinking out aloud 🙂 .
(Part2 follows, I have a lady neighbour who owns a dog!)
During those idle moments when one’s mind tends to wander there’s a question I often ask myself, would I sleep with a unhappily happily married woman?
The movie ‘When Harry Met Sally’ is a real favourite of mine and not because of Meg Ryan’s awesomely faked orgasm, a performance that’s more than a little disturbing to us men! No I’m fascinated by the premise at the story’s heart, the question Billy actually asks Meg namely can two people be ‘just good friends’ without the relationship becoming sexual OR heading that way until intelligence and good sense makes people stop and think! Can you be friends with that ‘special’ person at work without becoming romantically involved?
Now I’d guess above is possibly the most unusual blog Title you’ve come across today, but here’s a thing I’ve got an interesting anecdote for you, remember Gemma with the wet kitty? Well this tale features Chantelle another adorable sexy lady I’ve bumped into on my journey through life 😉 .
Jeeze a producer could take these two stories, weave into a narrative joining the sexy scenes together, choose from two age40+ actresses to play the female roles cause they’re always moaning about the lack of work for older women, then make a film about a guy’s oral bedroom escapades!…………….. ok perhaps not 😀 .
(Categorise this post under thoughts and opinions, it is what is, me thinking out aloud 🙂 .)
Virginity – dictionary definition – untouched unspoilt untainted unadulterated pure and ‘in mint condition!’ (a lot of un’s in there!)
Oh and a little free advice for you, ‘wait for that special person, wait many years if needs be, but don’t under any circumstances give your most precious personal possession to someone who DOESN’T deserve it!’ Now please read on. 😀
Go on-line and you may stumble across an internet forum revealing ‘men’ will pay good money to bed a virgin first, I know incredible or what, Oxford University Students have been selling theirs on-line, that’s until quite rightly eBay put a stop to such inappropriate behaviour then again there is that student loan to pay for?
Intriguing Title no? Call this post Creative Writing part 2 or whatever lol.
Yesterday was both lovely and sad, lovely because my sibling and daughter came over to stay over for the night with my mother, sad because we all as a family visited my father in Hospital, not the most enjoyable of experiences but there you old age creeps up on every one of us and the best we can do is make life comfortable for him.
I haven’t a writing Topic planned for this week, there’s family issues with my father having been admitted to hospital, however I will be exploring a theme inspired by watching one of those ‘Grammarly’ videos which precede EVERY YouTube video I seem to watch!! I’m wondering whether clever Google are aware I have a WordPress? Hmm plausible and are they tailoring my ad-stream towards writing sites? …………… Makes me wonder!
So the question I’m pondering this evening is if writer’s of Fiction use one of these gramma correction apps/websites? I don’t, never have and never will apart from spellcheck!
Now what I’m about to admit to you isn’t false modesty, I often ask myself ‘do I have a have creative writing ability?’ Because I’m aware I break many golden rules……… trouble is I wasn’t aware of them in the first place?
“To my great dismay, the English Language has no enforceable laws, much less someone to enforce the laws it doesn’t have.”
(‘An Utterly Correct Guide to Clarity and Style’ by Benjamin Dreyer.)
I very much doubt Benjamin Dreyer would object to me quoting him without permission, seeing as I’ve taken the time to read excerpts from his highly readable thought provoking book! However here’s a thing, Benjamin also went onto share what he suggests is a golden rule, yet in my untrained opinion this passage is a terrible read:
‘Certain prose rules are essentially inarguable—that a sentence’s subject and its verb should agree in number, for instance. Or that in a “not only x but y” construction, the x and the y must be parallel elements.’
Speaking as someone who, right here and now, couldn’t accurately explain what a verb is I’m coming around to the realisation I almost certainly break golden rules, and again according to Benjamin (my third and final reference) he suggests the four C’s, Convention. Consensus. Clarity. Comprehension help us use words to their optimum purpose, thus enabling us to communicate exactly what we are trying to say to our reader!
Incidentally what works for me is I download the conversation going on inside my brain at the time onto a laptop.
I think it’s at this point I forget completely Mr. Benjamin Dreyer and his English Language rules………….. I’ll only confuse myself.
Have you ever watched a chat show host interview a great stand up comedian and ask him or her,
“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why your jokes make people laugh?”
A bloody stupid question I’ve heard asked many times, and it’ll come as no surprise the answer is always “NO”. And what a dumb question because stand up comedy, holding an audience in the palm of your hand, is an artform as comparable to any great wordsmith.
As an aside the nicest compliment anyone has paid to me is, ‘you made me laugh’………….. on WordPress that is not in bed!!
Analyse and distil the essence of what makes he or she funny and the comic will probably lose the gift of humour. Similarly should a writer be tooo over introspective trying to workout the reasons why people enjoy reading their prose? You know distil out the secret, formulate a potion so making them the next JK Rowling? Sell millions of books, become a millionaire, leave Brexit fiasco Britain and go live with D. Trump.
Now to the thorny question of my own creative writing ability, err my erotica sexy stories, let’s just say I enjoy writing them and let’s not ask tooo many questions shall we, 😀 incidentally I have 3 more tales in draft. 🙂
Finally a question for you please, if you are a writer of novels, or have novels electronically accessible on Kindle, do you apply specific grammatical rules throughout you story? How an earth does a writer manage to blend phrasing rules seamlessly into text without spoiling/confusing a plot?
Thursday I travelled to London by coach with the aim of visiting Highgate’s Victorian Cemetery and yes it lived up to my expectations. I had promised a photo blog much the same as I’ve written before after one of my daytrips, however, alas I have only 3 photos for you pictured below of the imposing Gothic gated entrance, the centrepiece 200+ year Circle of Lebanon Cedar tree and a view taken from the pathway.
So why so few photos? Well our Tour guide said camera photography was permitted, yet no one did perhaps for no other reason than taking pictures of the dead seemed disrespectful? A Cemetery after all is a peaceful quiet place of eternal rest anyways not to worry.
Which all means I’ll have to exercise my brain (with a twist) and write about the day instead.
I guess each person within our tour party would have loved to spend the afternoon roaming the cemetery’s many vaults, mausolea, statues, catacombs and other treasures, but alas our lovely ‘super efficient’ tour guide had a schedule to be kept to, wandering stragglers at the rear were given a sharp,
“Do keep up now!”
The lady sounding rather like a brusque, rather annoyed headmistress with her cut glass posh English accent…………. but there you are who can complain when her 70minutes tour blessed with many fascinating facts, dates and true tales was so interesting.
Please remember if I’ve wetted your appetite for visiting and seeing for yourselves this wonder of Victorian London, please remember you CANNOT just turn up on the off chance because it’s not open to the public to wander in from the street! If you do you’ll be faced with my photo above with it’s large wrought iron gates locked tightly shut, but that does kinda add to the excitement, knowing that only a lucky few can visit each day. No you have to do some on-line preparation work before hand, and just imagine if this was open to the general public! Thousands of people walking traipsing wherever they wish, leaving coke cans and vandalising both the wildlife and structures with all peace and tranquillity disappeared.
Not to worry though, visit Highgate cemetery’s website and you can book a ticket for yourself and your partner (no under age8 children allowed), then pay £12.
Now through the wonders of Google here are several images below I’ve stolen borrowed from the net, look closely and you’ll see a photo of the centre piece cedar tree absent of sun-strike!
I quite took to our tour guide wearing her bright red shirt on a warm spring day, her tightly fitting slim blue jeans, a tall and slender lady no older than age60 and readers to this blog will know the older woman turns me on big time! Especially when she’s assertive bossy and domineering, but joking apart and being bluntly honest she was an extremely sexy specimen of aged womanhood, oh and with the hint of two gentle mounds of breasts beneath her scarlet shirt………….. that topped my day!
The lady’s most entertaining true tale, of which there were many, features the renowned Victorian anatomist and surgeon Henry Gray, similar to many of the interns beneath Highgate’s undergrowth he was a man famous of his day, and if you wish to know more then Wikipedia for other notable Victorians laying six feet under!
(Charles Dickens wife and children are buried here.)
Henry Gray’s headstone had only recently been discovered by a volunteer clearing from amongst the thousands of headstones, and ivy strewn undergrowth. Apparently as the story goes, during surgical operations he would try to cut as quickly as possible with his knife and saw because the patient was not under anaesthetic, though Gray did later discover ether would make the knifing procedure less painful. Again as the story goes, our lady guide told us Gray also holds the impressive record of most deaths in one single operation, because in his haste to amputate a man’s leg quickly, he cut three fingers off his assistant (who later died of infection), a member of the public watching (for as we were reminded this is where the term ‘operating theatre’ originates) dropped down dead, and of course the patient later died also succumbing to his injuries.
Three deaths during one operation, impressive no?
Of course the connection between infection and cleanliness of instruments hadn’t been discovered yet, much the same as Joseph Bazzalgette hadn’t yet discovered cholera was a water borne infection, the Victorians believing cholera was an airborne disease with horrific consequences, incidentally Bazzalgette invented London’s sewage system and yet another genius Victorian who shaped the modern world!
Incidentally Victorian high society was captivated by this new profession called surgery, but (apparently according to our gorgeous tour guide) surgeons were the superstar ‘must have dinner guests’ at parties of the time, but little did they know surgeons also paid unscrupulous London men to rob graves of their dear departed all in the name of practice and science, that’s until an act of Parliament allowed the dead from workhouses to be purchased and dissected.
I guess the Anglican Church didn’t believe souls of the poor required saving?
The real irony of course is, Highgate was built a fortress with armed guards in order to keep grave robbers OUT which kinda amused me, and I wasn’t aware the vaults were fitted with bells because apparently Victorian Londoners biggest fear was waking alive after being presumed dead……….. now I can see the logic in that!
Hopefully I’ve given you a sense of how the Lady interwove different tales into one stream of consciousness, very clever and as she said sporting a rather wry grin, “Of course we did what every cash strapped charity would do! We contacted those wealthy Fellows Of the Royal College of Surgeons (FRCS), to see if they would be interested in helping pay for Henry’s grave to be cleaned”, and again as we were reminded ‘Gray’s Anatomy’ is still purchased today by bright eyed medical students embarking on their career in medicine.
There is so much more I could write about such as foxes visiting after dusk, the catacombs are home to a rare breed of spider having found it’s home inside the damp burial vaults, bats hang from the ceilings above lead boxed coffins, still visible the wooden casket having decomposed and rotted away, tales of how Londoners could walk from Canning Town through fields and meadows to marvel at this the poshest Cemetery in England, and for a Brit that’s an astounding vision because the journey today is walked through street lined buildings! And George Michael is buried behind it’s strong high walls I guess in an effort to keep it hidden from view or from becoming a public shrine, jeez just imagine if his final resting place was open to musician following pilgrims and their posters!!
Yes a truly amazing Victorian splendour with heaps of history and atmosphere and THANKFULLY no stories of ghosts!
Finally why not book on-line and go visit for yourselves, however note you cannot spend an afternoon doing as you wish but does that matter anyway? Oh and if you’re lucky you to may have an attractive sexy Grandma for a tour guide.
(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!”)
I’ve never set a Challenge before, but perhaps my Q’s could prompt a response.
Yes 150 posts down and pretty near to my starting day March 10th 2018, I’ve been hanging around this internet backwater for eleven months now. So this evening I’m going to break a rule and write a blog about blogging, a rule? Yes I remember reading this just isn’t the done thing so I’ve adapted it to a Challenge.
A. Shepherdson’s 10 ‘blogging’ Questions.
1. My favourite blogs to read?
That would be unfair to divulge, all I will say is and honestly this has happened solely by chance, I err appear to only follow middle aged female writers! I know strange or what, I’d guess I’m subconsciously attempting to understand how a woman’s mind works?
2. Has writing been mentally good for you?
Most certainly yes, writing for me is a challenge I’ve suffered from depression and the process makes me feel good, btw many drafts are binned during that process, I understand I’m amongst far more talented writers than myself, many of my posts begin short and invariably finish 1000 words long 😦 , but I enjoy the challenge also the near orgasmic satisfaction as I strike that pink button in the top right hand corner which always used to be blue?
3. What do you enjoy about WordPress?
The freedom to write about whatever I wish, captures my imagination, or would hopefully be interesting to a reader and every post is original and written by myself, ok I steal borrow many photos from the internet, but I don’t make money here so I’d say ‘borrowing’ is ok? Perhaps not, but it WOULD be wrong if money changed hands which never will.
Following bloggers who’s writing speaks to me, touches me or is just plain right entertaining and of course perhaps most of all I enjoy interacting with other writers, some of which you get to know ‘blogging well’ through commenting and replying, that’s why we’re here isn’t it? To interact, write responses and take part in challenges, what’s the point ‘publishing’ something then clearing off to do something else.
4. Is there anything you dislike about WordPress?
Easy, bloggers who make a point of stating they do not read blog post on WordPress period! Now I guess there’s no harm in that, but that distain seems so rude, well my answer to you lol is I’m not reading what YOU have to say, oh and not forgetting bloggers who don’t to reply to readers comments, seems very odd?………. Ok I’m being a little precious this evening but not to worry.
5. Most bizarre blogging moment
This is again possibly easier to explain than you’d first imagine. Many many months ago I met with a WordPress Blogger in person, all above board with personal lol safety precautions in place 😀 and an interesting enjoyable experience meeting the lady was to!
This answer to number 5 is a post within itself, so briefly cutting a long story short we got chatting as you do both commenting and replying to each other’s blog posts, decided to go the step further and actually meet, so one summer’s afternoon I travelled to her home Town by Train, the lady met me at the Station greeting me with a big hug, and yes she was a ‘naughty story’ blogger and her figure was as buxom as I’d been truthfully led to believe.
We spent a lovely day together, both single mature adults we got on famously and hardly stopped chatting all day, quite early one she texted a friend to say ‘don’t worry Andrew’s ok and everything was fine’, we purchased food, she drove us to a beautiful secluded spot in the countryside and we shared a picnic together, the two of us sat in a field alongside a canal with boats sailing past.
So there you are I guess there’s little more bizarre than Actually meeting with a serious writer you’ve met on the internet? And NO nothing untoward or naughty happened whatsoever………….. our day finished later that same afternoon when she drove me to the station, we hugged tightly on the platform kissed (she was lovely) said goodbye and well that’s my true story.
6. Where does blogging go to next?
I guess the worst that could happen to WordPress is if Governments across the Globe limited what content can be viewed in their Country or vice versa! I know the EU are currently dabbling in planned censorship but that has more to do with copyright infringement, I guess Legislation could force WordPress into censorship in much the same way Laws are beginning to limit the way Facebook operates, I hope not because WordPress is frequented by serious writers and well-balanced intelligent adults who are doing little worse than sharing their thoughts on-line. I could envisage in the future a time of more censorship and an end to sex blogs, that would be a shame but then again children can access WordPress, and for fear of labouring a point I very much doubt children are reading blogs because, well do children actually read anymore?
Yes WordPress will evolve and change, but I’d guess they’ll be well aware any whiff of censorship would ‘kill their Golden Goose’.
7. When will you finish?
Now through the process of reading other people’s blogs I know this is a question often on people’s minds, how long I’ll be here I have no idea? I guess two answers will be when I’m no longer enjoying myself and when readers cease liking viewing and commenting, oh and when I run dry of ideas! Yes I think I’ll stop if I’m aware people are bored or no longer read. Remember I write for myself but come on if we’re all honest we enjoy entertaining and making people smile…………… 😀 perhaps we’re the equivalent to nineteenth century circus performing monkey’s.
8. Would you like to be more popular?
I guess the honest answer is yes, but I do have a sense many people write here then link to their Twitter feed also Facebook circle of friends, I haven’t a Twitter and never will be ‘On Facebook’ consequently I’ll never be haha famous, so my honest answer is if something I’ve created makes a reader smile or think yes ‘he makes a point’ , then honestly who can ask for more?
9. What has been your most popular post also why?
This question fascinates me, why are some posts more popular than others, and interrogating my viewing numbers also Countries who watch me, I have a sense my countryside photo posts are popular in places like India? And never ceases to surprise me a post I thought absolutely fantastic didn’t do so well in likes and views, yet a post I thought perhaps uninteresting actually did appear to be popular…….. I guess the saying ‘you pays your money and makes your choice’ applies.
The most popular? My tale themed Beautiful Helen from across the road a sexy story which is my number 1, possibly because the photo looks down a woman’s cleavage………….. only a thought but sex does sell.
10. Number 10?
You cannot have 9 questions to a list can you? There just has to be 10 or it looks odd! Hmm so let me think for a second, something out the ordinary, ok yes how’s about, ‘would you ever contemplate writing a sex blog?’ (Btw I’m NOT saying write one!!!)
Perhaps write your own (short) answers and link to this post? If not I hope you enjoyed my answers.
Amazing how the absence of a camera lens (above) distorts photos taken by a tablet, I think I’ll stick with my £8 Fuji eBay purchase in future.
For those readers unfamiliar with my unforeseen washing machine saga series, I began by intending to show you how to replace a rubber seal on my 19 year old Bosch, I changed the part but the appliance never worked again? And the reason why wasn’t even my fault………. read here if you need to but lol I wouldn’t bother 😀 .
So I’ve given up any dreams of becoming an electrical appliance maintenance engineer, and instead decided to upcycle/convert the old washing machine drum into a fire pit/garden incinerator or better still BBQ, and please do read that post here. (Helps for later)
However before I write a ‘How To’ guide for making a drum firepit (remember upcycling means taking a defunct product and converting it into something usable) I thought I’d share a brief review of my new machine pictured above ABSENT OF AN ACCOMPANING YOUTUBE VIDEO!
(As an aside, WordPress is a haven for expressing yourself through the written word, so perhaps I shouldn’t post tooo many of my own YouTube videos here? Not to worry my ‘Blog’ features less than 1% video media.)
Now to my first product review, by that I mean a buyers first thoughts.
Where was I? Oh yes my review of something purchased, one day I’ll learn the art of keeping my thought processes on track!
As I’ve written before my previous Bosch washing machine lasted 19years, my Hotpoint Refrigerator finally died 18years ago and I’m writing not a jot about my Hotpoint Freezer for fear of tempting fate!!! Have I been lucky? I guess so yes, but don’t get me started with regurgitating my kitchen oven rant or I’ll be still here 1000 words later still spitting feathers.
I’d guess the maxim ‘you get what you pay for’ applies to everything in life, a Bosch appliance isn’t the cheapest to purchase however as we’re informed they’re built in Germany a Country that builds quality engineered products, alas unlike mine own which appears to manufacture very little these days but that’s a WHOLE different BREXIT story.
Early days! I’ve only used my new Bosch Vario Perfect Serie 4 for a handful of washes, but all’s well and good and machine operates as instructed, not forgetting of course a Bosch comes with a 2 year manufacturers warranty as standard 🙂
Finger’s crossed, I very much doubt it’ll last another 19years but who knows?
Two very pleasant gentlemen from ‘John Lewis’ (upmarket UK store) both delivered and fitted it two weeks ago, and I hadn’t realised washing machines no longer require hot water feeds, no the only two pipes that need connection are the cold water inlet feed and a drain pipe taking the ‘dirty water’ away. They installed the appliance giving me brief operating instructions before leaving and advising I begin with a 4hour 90 degrees wash cycle, that sounds frigging expensive!
90 degrees Celsius for heavens sake! (Does anyone wash at 90 degrees? Discuss)
The accompanying guide manual is a little daunting reading to begin with, phrases like Speed Eco Water, Heavy soiling, Plus/Rinse Plus/Wash and the like, but then again don’t they say Washing machines are designed by men? Select a cycle by turning the control dial and there are ten cycles to choose from cottons delicates etc, each option displays the spin cycle speed, beginning to end time also temperature as a pre-set and I guess you choose your favourite then stick with it for many years to come? Btw I didn’t know this, but the faster the spin the more creases that are put into the garments err wow? I’ll get the hang of it, oh and there are additional settings for short eco washes pre soaks etc but a couple of hours at 40 degrees has suited me fine for this past 20years.
A major improvement compared to my old Bosch machine is the spin cycle is a whole lot quieter than before, and of course if you never overload the drum in weight then you’ll never experience vibration problems applies, yes my Bosch quietly spins itself into a 1400 purring cycle and as I’ve hinted at finger’s crossed no problems yet.
So does anyone actually concern themselves worrying about garment crease levels? Or do you throw in 2 detergent tablets, close the door and wash at 40 degrees for a couple of hours every single time?
If little else please watch the video at the end, ty.
This post is I suggest a Response to ‘Is Andrew (slightly) Racist’, here I point the finger of blame at 4 British Politicians, my own ‘Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse’ I hold RESPONSIBLE for our current Brexit mess, sorry Brexit tragic madness 😦 . Lol these last two Rants are why I avoid writing about politics………. how about a little ❤ sex next? Discuss 😀
‘British privately educated politicians! They exude a sneering veneer of authenticity, coupled with enormous privilege that is flaunted rather than hidden.’
William Shakespeare once wrote ‘All the World is a Stage’, one of those many sayings that stick in the mind and the older I get the more I understand this great writer’s genius observation applies to us all, whether that be at work, or the school you send your children to, yes they are all Stages at your local Theatre the ones we are mere players in. There’ll be gossip and intrigue, heroes and villains not forgetting many a scheming Machiavellian stabbing in the back. Whether workplace, school or politics each one of us is acting out a part, it’s only the Stage and storyline that changes, so yes William Shakespeare’s genius pearl of wisdom never fails to give me pause for thought.
Enough talk of Brexit except hold on, only the other day I suddenly realised four Politicians names time and again reappear over this past three years, little different to reoffending suspects at a crime scene, if a Theatre Stage themed Brexit existed, then these four major player’s names will perform over and over and over again.
Like bad pennies four keep turning except one culprit, PM David Cameron dare not show his face in public, an odious showman, the chief architect of Brexit has disappeared leaving the whole sorry mess for other mortals to try and clean up…………. Cameron is a man President Obama was once over heard calling “a light weight” and I now understand where Obama was coming from……… a wise man indeed.
You may have guessed I dislike David Cameron mainly because he broke the most important rule in politics life namely,
“You cannot play Politics with People’s jobs and services……..”, to quote the great speech given by Labour leader Neil Kinnock.
Britain’s sorry tale began when David Cameron promised his Euro sceptic MPs a Referendum both expecting and hoping we the public would vote to Remain in Europe, back in 2016 we had the farcical sight of a Prime Minister campaigning for an issue he didn’t want or believe in yet a policy he set the wheels in motion, crazy madness, jeeze don’t you think that near criminal Leadership?…………. Yes Cameron played politics with peoples lives, he divided a nation who now loath each other, and now I have to live through this sorry mess for the next twenty five years……………… Brexit will be the defining political moment of my generation.
Oh yes returning to those four politicians I now like to call The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse because they have many things in common, each is male white skinned middle aged and Conservative for one, all are privately educated privileged and arrogant, all Graduated from Oxford University, each one is as Right Wing as D. Trump and all four in some way architects of Britain’s Brexit mess. David Cameron and Chancellor Osborne came up with the idea to leave, whilst Boris Johnson the poster boy of the leave campaign and arch Eurosceptic Jacob Rees-Mogg urged us to vote Leave, and yet unbelievably incrediblyRees-Mogg is idealised by the out of work and poor, why?………. So very strange that those who have nothing worship men of wealth power and privilege who have everything.
Reminds me of those privately educated Generals and Field Marshalls who ordered millions of young men to their deaths in World War One, the famous saying ‘Lions led by (privately educated) Donkey’s’ never rings truer especially now.
So here are my ‘Four Horsemen’ pictured below wearing dinner jackets and top hats, faces of arrogant dull unintelligent men lifted from another Century, men in the top echelons of power solely because of the school and university they attended and what’s even worse, there are thousands like them in positions of power across Britain.
Cameron Rees-Mogg Osborne and Johnson went to Eton the same Public School that has provided Great Britain with 29 other Prime Ministers………… quite unbelievable that so many Leaders have come from one School, yet these four criminals have one further major failing, before entering politics none hadn’t worked a regular job in the real world, they’re all career politicians devoid of any talents where wealth affords below average men to play dangerous games with people’s lives.
Yet will David Cameron have the last laugh? Will migrants stop coming to Britain? Will European Laws no longer apply? Btw I’m not holding my breath on either of those last two!!! Hmm are some decisions in life too important to allow uneducated people to vote upon?’ (And that includes me).
…………………… and finally if you’re curious as to seeing the best bit from ‘That Speech’, well I found it on YouTube and now regarded as ‘one’ of the most famous political Speeches of the last Century. Yes.
Please feel free to disagree with any of my ‘now not so private’ views.
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?’
(A quick afterthought, I realised at the time of writing my post, selectively choosing passages from D. Trump speeches would be controversial, problematic! I dislike the man and for what it’s worth this isn’t a post about Trump, yes a mistake to selectively quote him but at worst I guess the photos are good ‘click bait’. Andrew)
Ok I understand if we’re discussing racism, a loss of National Identity then quoting D. Trump is a writer’s wet dream…………….. not that I have sexy dreams about Trump but you get the idea .
Does a multicultural Britain worry me? If I’m completely honest yes it does, when I look at my mother’s photographs taken of her as a child in the 1950’s, each and every face therein is white of European descent, so am I a racist? No! Am I a white supremacist? Most definitely NOT! However please read on.
I’m employed let us say as support staff within a ‘blank’ establishment blah blah blah, for the past nigh on 30 years I’ve worked alongside young people also ‘other’s’ more important than me (unproven lol) who originate from every Country under the Sun, Venezuela to South Korea, Sri Lanka to The United States, and if successful after 3 years and 9 Terms they all return home (lol work it out!)
So yes by any stretch of the imagination Britain has little resemblance to the post war white faced Britain of my Grandparents, we’ve become swamped by an influx of West Indians in the 60s, Indians and Pakistanis in the 70’s, 900,000 Poles post joining the EU up to and past the 2000s, and that’s not forgetting those illegals taking the train beneath The English Channel from the other 27 Nations, NOT forgetting more recently migrant refugees from Syria, so many migrants now live within London and most metropolitan cities the European population dissolved into the Counties.
Are you shocked? What if your Granddaughter cannot find a house to buy because 900,000 Poles have moved here, true or not immigration not Brexit is the reason Britain’s are angry.
So I ask myself does it really matter Britain’s evolved from a 95% white population in 1945 to well, every Nation under the Sun in 2018? On the one hand immigration is the reason Britain is in such a political mess and that’s a frigging understatement! For those of you reading from your homes abroad, I’m quite popular in India btw looking by my statistics I’m loving that. For those of you who are under the impression our Brexit debate has been about leaving Europe? I’m here to tell you it is NOT, Brexit’s about immigration full stop, then again I watch the News from across the Globe and migration is every Countries perceived overriding problem worry, whether the Turkish influx into Germany or the North Africans walking into France or D. Trump building his blessed Wall to keep South American’s out, Migration of human beings scares each and every one of us and I’m afraid if you disagree then I’d say lol you are lying? Or “Less than contrite with the truth” as Bill Clinton would say.
Discuss 🙂 .
(Hmm now I’ve upset someone! Did you know 9 months writing and I haven’t received a single hateful comment? I’d guess that’s because I’m neither a woman and perhaps not as talented a ‘writer’ as I sometimes like to think then again I’m happy here…………. the old adage be careful what you wish comes to mind.)
So am I a racist? A question I ask of myself at least every single hour, ok several times a day, today I saw a photo of an Asian gentleman standing at the corner of Hyde Park, Speaker’s Corner where under British Law one is legally allowed to say whatever he/she wishes to without fear of arrest (lol perhaps google that fact before visiting.) Returning to my perfectly decent Pakistani gentleman in the photo HE was displaying a banner saying ‘Sharia Law in Britain NOW!’ Knowing the scare stories that I do concerning Sharia Law, I’m saddened to imagine a Britain Governed under such mysterious Laws when our Centuries old ones legislate just fine………. well ok they’re lol less than adequate but you get the idea, they punishes wrongdoers and lock up the evil.
(My understanding of Sharia Law is that women are treated as second class citizens.)
Hmm so am I racist wishing for the good old utopian days of post war Britain and there lies my problem, I enjoy the company of being with people from across the Globe, especially the beautiful East European girl who serves me Costa Coffee at breaktime! But I do worry my National Identity is disappearing fast, I’m not a racist because I’m a nice guy people person, but the shear numbers who’ve migrated here, with their own beliefs and customs means I’m afraid to say, yes the British Identity of my youth is fast disappearing.
Now please hear me out 🙂 .
Several months ago I visited The Tower Of London, such an atmospheric historic place for those who wish to immerse themselves in 1000years of English History, I clearly remember walking up a stone staircase in one of the Towers and feeling the overwhelming sense I was following in the very same steps as Elizabeth I, possibly the only Monarch who captures my imagination, quite an emotional experience actually understanding without a shadow of any doubt way back in the 1600’s she climbed this staircase. I was ACTUALLY stepping through the ghosts of Henry VIII, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Thomas Moore all such evocative and important names in my Country’s history, THEY WERE WITH ME and my imagination quite ran away with me.
Why such pride and fascination? Simply because though the names of my ancestors are lost in the midst of time, technically I could trace my lineage back to those 1600s because they’re all English by birth, I ask you does your Country’s history mean anything to you? Again hours later I recall standing beside Tower Green, the place where Anne Boleyn lost her head, asking myself “do those Syrian beggars standing outside upon Tower Hill where so many Traitors were beheaded, really give a s*** about My England?”
Hmm life moves on, as my Grandfather used to say “good or bad you cannot stop progress.”
And please don’t get me started on English Literature, will Shakespeare, Hardy, Dickens, Len Deighton, whoever become authors names lost in time, perhaps it’s always been this way, in fifty years from now Grandmothers will be lamenting the long ago days of X Factor, saddened because a Grandchild won’t have a clue what she’s talking about.
(Hmm I’m 😀 just reminded, I’ve never read a Shakespeare Play in my entire life!!! Watched all the Hollywood movies though.)
Lol the British White Tribe are angry and if we leave Europe and Japanese car plants move abroad then we’re all screwed! Am I racist? No. But if losing my perceived National Identity beneath a sea of cultures happens then yes I guess I am, do I enjoy the Company of people from across the four corners of our Globe? Then that answer is an unequivocal yes.
A famous quotation for you.
“…………did an English Missionary living and working in China think himself English or Chinese? English of course, the British immigrant population are no different, their home is the Country they were born in………….”
So which famous Politician am I quoting there? Enoch Powell of course, to some a racist to others his Prophecies have come true.
Only the other day I was discharged from Hospital, cared for by lovely kind skilled nurses from Europe Asia Australia……… , lovely people all, so please if my silly little post has offended anyone I sincerely apologise…… the real joy of having a ‘WordPress’ is we can dissect complex political arguments without fear of censure, peace and love ❤ Andrew.
‘While mild forgetfulness can be a normal part of aging, it can also be a sign of more serious memory problems, such as amnestic mild cognitive impairment, dementia, or even Alzheimer’s disease.’
(U.S. Department of Health & Human Services.)
In all seriousness I sometimes worry if I’m losing my mind’s awareness of what’s going on around me, the conscious powers of my brain are starting to ‘tail-off?’, or can my forgetfulness be just another consequence of getting old………………. like one’s pubic ‘bush’ thinning out, so you’ve noticed to!!
I’m age 50! I’ll walk into a room knowing that I’m supposed to be looking for something but for the life of me I cannot remember what I was looking for, it happens all the time! A humorous line often said by many an aging adult, HOWEVER very true if more than a little worrying!
Last night before bedtime I walked into the bathroom and instantly saw an empty toothpaste tube on the shelf above the sink, it was empty that same morning when I told myself “I must buy a replacement”………… I didn’t, the consequence last night I had to cut the tube’s nozzle off and scrape out enough paste to brush my teeth, well at least I’m saving money and doing my bit to prolong the planet!
In all seriousness my moments of forgetfulness does sharpen the mind, more than a little disconcerting, my father now suffers from severe memory loss and I’ve written about caring for elderly parents before! We as a family first noticed his forgetfulness and blossoming deterioration about three years ago, it’s only in hindsight that you can pinpoint the beginnings of dementia and how bad it’s become, the process creeps up on you. First there’s the absent minded forgetfulness then several years later he stopped all engaging conversation, it’s heart-breaking to witness especially when I remember he was a University educated schoolteacher………………. dementia has zero regard for a human being’s intelligence.
Here and now doing a quick bit of mental arithmetic I have about 24years to reach the age at which dad began to fail, jeez an awful lot of life can happen in 24years and who knows I may not make it? As a consequence I’m not obsessed with panicked worry assuming Alzheimer’s is about to strike (and for once I’m NOT trying to be funny), HOWEVER I’m curious at what point does a person first realise his mind’s about to slip into dementia? Why don’t we hear mental health experts telling us how to diagnose the first signs of forgetfulness, a cruel wheeze dreamt up by God that will soon rob you of all thinking reasoning and knowledge of the world and people around you? Answer medics either cannot or don’t choose to, perhaps knowing beforehand is all to scary and I’ve heard said human beings brains are just not powerful enough to cope with modern day living, hence that’s WHY we forget! The reason for forgetfulness in an aging species?
I’m going to have ‘Has anyone seen my keys?’ Engraved upon my headstone.
Or on reflection maybe I haven’t done the relevant research then again perhaps it’s best not to know, one of the biggest mistakes in life you can make is Googling a medical symptom (we’ve all done it) BECAUSE the engine’s answers will be many varied and wrong.
So I guess I’ll carry on bathing in the shower trying to remember if I’d taken that herbal mint infused bag out of my tea mug? Btw this happened 25 minutes ago 😦 .
Now please do not read tooo much into this post, I’m a little annoyed disappointed that’s all, and it’s not a rant because my WordPress is a drama free zone where I’ll hopefully share something anything entertaining, enjoy myself and share thoughts that are on my mind………… as with this post!! For obvious reasons I rarely speak about my place of work for one because they’ll bore you to tears and two because it’s well unsafe and possibly illegal to share detail, but hey I’m going to break my self imposed rule and share an email we’ve all received below………… just keep in mind ‘#MeToo fallout’ and read on.
Let me expand my tale with some sketchy detail, my place of work every Christmas organises an ‘office Party’ to which only support staff are invited, if last year is any indication half of guests will be women of all ages, office workers who work in HR administration PA secretaries and a (lovely brunette) receptionist.
The other half consist of males of all ages who are employed as mechanical maintenance support staff, and generally throughout the 2018 working year both sexes got on just fine, with the odd minor incident as always happens when human beings rub along together.
Last year’s Christmas meal was incident free, groups of 8 sat around tables, conversation was slightly forced but ‘it was what it was’, a sociable meal……….. then after the free glass of bubbly had been consumed and the meal finished, the male support staff tended to congregate in groups close to the bar……….. and as I’d expect females sat in groups around tables I’d guess chatting about what women like to chat about, not forgetting a handful of younger women danced whilst a young DJ played music.
Now you’re probably thinking some calamity befell the occasion, someone drank too much and there was an incident laced with sexual impropriety, an event so grave the fallout has been discussed infinitum for the rest of 2018. But I’m sorry to disappoint, nothing happened except as the evening wore on conversation noise levels increased as the chatting groups became more animated as the alcoholic beverages took affect.
However alas there wasn’t to be any kissing under the mistletoe, no male drunken fumbling within a receptionist’s blouse (incidentally my wet dream) behind a Christmas Tree, nope as I said nothing untoward happened whatsoever, as I’d guess everyone had expected when they bought the ticket, a drama free evening perhaps because the type of institution I work in everyone is responsible and extremely intelligent, and probably exactly the same as thousands of office Parties up and down the UK, Events you have to be seen attending if a little boring but with an absence of loutish inappropriate embarrassing behaviour!
So as of today Christmas Party 2018 is all booked and paid for then on Monday we receive the email above, and if you’ve read the text you’ll have guessed we basically received behavioural instructions, rules and guidelines, with threats, also informed that any inappropriate behaviour will be dealt with through HR and the usual disciplinary procedures, as it says our Party is an extension of the workplace
…….. as for the ‘drinking should’s?’ Those points are enshrined in UK Law ANYWAY!!!!
WTF!!! As you’d expect this email has not gone down tooo well, that’s an understatement! It’s of course driven by #MeToo fallout, my employer is covering itself against possible legal action, but come on, do responsible adults really need to be reminded how to behave, do they really need to be reminded of disciplinary protocol, guidelines on how to enjoy yourselves responsibly?
Ok after the dust has settled we’re all intelligent adults, lovely people, we understand this is just another consequence of the #MeToo fallout but it hasn’t half put a damper on this supposedly fun annual event, I’d go far as to say if this email had been forwarded before booking and payment was made, going by general consensus several people say they wouldn’t have gone……………. then again that’s possibly the worst thing you could do, it surely infers to the Department’s Head that you drink tooo much and as a consequence start laying your grubby little paws on secretaries plump shapely asses……………. however on reflection, back in the real world, predatory behaviour probably blights one or two office Parties.
That’s got me thinking, what if there’s a Secretary who secretly doesn’t like me, a closet nutcase, perhaps she had plans to accuse innocent old me of groping her then get me arrested by the police, what a fabulous opportunity to take me and the Employer for millions!…………… Or am I dreaming up a world of fantasy?
Like I said at the beginning. this isn’t a rant, I understand the need for such an email but come on do we really need reminding how to conduct ourselves in a civilised society? The Head graduated from University, a very intelligent individual, yes on the whole is liked but perhaps ‘he or she’ just got over officious with language or perhaps this is a sign of legislation to come? The possibility of being sued in a Court of Law could mean ‘rest and relaxation’ events will become a thing of the past, however lol boring they may be.
And my final word to this little rant, here’s the email I would have sent?
Dear all, I hope you enjoy the Department's various Christmas
Events, please remember they are an extension of our/your
Happy Christmas and a peaceful 2019 to you all.
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.
Should I burn in Hell for all eternity admitting I don’t understand why?
I’m a red blooded heterosexual guy, hold on let me rephrase that! I’m a randy heterosexual guy who ain’t laid a lady in ages, and what’s the association with red blood and virility anyway……….. as you may have guessed I’m pretty confused this evening and lol not high on illegal substances!
Mind you if you’d been following my blog closely you’ll know I’m a breasts and ladies man through and through.
Ok apologies for this post before I begin, it’s bound to upset someone, hopefully 😀 ! You’ll have possibly guessed by the Title above I’ve met a guy who wears women’s dresses………… in fact there’s more than one, I cannot say tooo much about my place of employment because well………. many months ago someone at work read my blog who actually knew me! All I will say is the establishment is education related and populated by many academically (highly) intelligent men and women many of whom lack basic common sense, but that’s another story!
Now criticise me in comments please, but I have to be truthfully honest and say I struggle to understand why these two guys spend their working day dressed in women’s clothing? One of them dyes his head purple and wears denim short skirts, the guy in IT dyes his long hair a shocking shade of ‘bubble gum’ pink and totters around in high healed shoes, though I will say he’s the legs to carry off shear black stockings and pencil skirts!………….. I’m not saying I’d ask him out on a date mind but he’s passable for a lady except for the five o’clock shadow come late afternoon!
Now just so as you’re aware I’m not homophobic, I’m an openminded live and let live type of guy okay!……… I’ve a relative in a same sex relationship, two of my old schoolfriends are gay and I’d sleep with two naked lesbian lovers any day of the week!
Being serious for a second, my place of work of course promotes and supports a LGBT community in the form of themed events and social Groups, in fact Cara (he of denim short skirts) is the President, he seems a nice guy, I of course don’t stare at his legs as I politely say………..
“Good morning Cara” or “weather’s turned cold again” or similar pleasantries however I don’t know these two guys other than to say hello………… now feel free to judge me please but Cara doesn’t appear at all feminine, and perhaps my lack of understanding/appreciation is down to my lack of education, but in my defence since age sixteen I’ve worked in male dominated factories and foundries, stereotypical right wing institutions, frequented by bs spouting working class heterosexuals, some racist and all with tooo much testosterone coursing through their veins………… yes I’m ill informed and possibly prejudicial?
(I’m also playing Devil’s advocate.)
I’m also confused, Cara in LGBT literature refers to himself in print as ‘She’ yet I guess he has a willy? One time I actually witnessed him walk into the lady’s cloak room/toilet and that was a shock and a half I can tell you!! But reading her literature and overhearing gossiping tongues I’m VERY aware if I was to say something out of turn and within earshot, he would formally complain and I’d quite probably lose my job……………….. she takes his Trans Gender extremely seriously I just wish he’d the legs for wearing short skirts that’s all 😀 . Confused? I am.
Perhaps I should enrol myself in the LGBT Society to be informed and educated? I’m open minded with a live and let live outlook, but for my sins I have a strong working class upbringing and wasn’t birthed by over sensitive parents.
But I’m not the only person to be confused, it appears to me British society in the broader sense struggles to understand Transgenderism, you have female guests complaining to the Youth Hostelling Association because they’re sleeping, in what they’d assumed, would be women only bunkbeds only to find Transgender men were sleeping within these open plan dormitories…………. a female journalist said she felt vulnerable uneasy and frightened even, but of course the YHA legally has it’s hands tied.
The Transgender community is very vocal, extremely political and I’d guess British Institutions are frightened to say the wrong thing, scared of landing themselves in Court or caught in the ‘crossfire’ of a Twitter ‘shit-storm’, jeez I’m mixing my metaphors once again!
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’ve created a little controversy on this blog several posts back, but conversation and debate is good just goes to show words possess great power, a lesson Tony Blair should have heeded when he took us to war………… 45 minutes to Armageddon was a premeditated lie that cost many good lives. (Prosecute as a war criminal?)
Moving on, enough of war.
(These blogs are series of thoughts while my mother is away and I’m looking after Dad.)
Why show photographs of a Fish and Chip restaurant you may ask, well Sunday evening come teatime I gave my father two meal options thus,
“Would you like a ‘Charlie Binghams Cottage Pie’ mum left in the fridge, or ‘Fish and Chips’ from ‘The Codfather’ takeaway restaurant on their estate” I err inquired.
And gleefully smiling Dad answered, wait for it, “Fish and Chips please”.
So dutifully off I trot with my day-sack to that very British institution every UK town possesses, and ours as you can see is called ‘The Codfather’ a rather clever take on ‘The Godfather’ and I have a feeling the lady who owns the shop breaks any number of copyrights! She is yes of Italian descent a lovely woman and fabulous restaurateur and YES you did that read correctly.
The poster below hangs on a wall in her shop, caught my eye, I guess many a customer’s eye!
Most definitely a restauranteur.
English ‘Fish and Chips’ is far from easy to cook properly in bulk, in fact I’ve visited many a takeaway where the chips have been cold soggy wet and made from crap potatoes, not her’s this lovely personable lady’s food is severed up golden crispy brown, fish with crunchy batter and cod with the whitest flesh you have seen, consequently customers have to get their early because waiting queues spill out the door into the street……… every evening!
Yes Marlon Brando photos and movie still posters adorn the walls with the added bonus her @25yr old daughter served me, again friendly like her mother (blonde ponies are so becoming) and because the ovens are so hot she wore a low cut green tee shirt exposing an ample cleavage, near spilling out as she leaned forward packing my fish and chips into paper, jeez I gazed straight down when her mother wasn’t looking…………. lol judge me isn’t (appropriate) sexuality the way of the world? Must do wonders for custom from middle aged men! ( 😀 she’s aware)
Anyways enough sexy silliness!
A Pub fact for you, did you know throughout World War 1 an order was past down from the highest echelons of our Government, ordering that’s fleets of trawler-men catch fish as a priority and Fish and Chip shops in towns the length of Britain were to be supplied with cooking oil potatoes and fish, they became a staple hot nutritious meal for land and munitions workers whilst their men fought and died in Northern France.
So the meal should be revered and remembered as a British Institution through and through……….. btw it is 🙂 .
Takeaway meal packed up I payed my £7.50, took them home, plated up and served to a very pleased and happy father, I’m not quite sure if he’s allowed or they have adverse effects when taken with evening medication, 😀 either way I shan’t tell Mum but hey we both enjoyed them.
Then rather heart breaking, after both washing up the dishes he turned to me and solemnly asked a ‘loaded’ question,
“You are staying, you’re not going home are you!?”
Well I’ll be honest and say I’ve heard this said before or similar, you all have, kinda heart breaking because at moments such as these a child realises our lives have turned full circle, by that I mean the parent needs the child rather than the other way round as it was throughout the child’s youth.
We’ve all experienced this, I don’t wish to overplay or symbolize those moments except to say you realise they need you and worry about any possible consequences if you’re not there………….. or probably they just like the company.
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!’
This post is what it is, me sharing thoughts with MY WordPress, and I will try my best (as always) to keep these shared thoughts 🙂 positive light and interesting…………. call this one a little more serious than usual. (Any comments would be most welcome).
Followers who’ve read my family tales of which I know there are several, may have noticed I’ve never written a single word of my father, I don’t wish to start now except to say ours was a strained relationship (my fault?), dad is/was a good man honest hard working kind and generous but looking back on my childhood and years after I feel he let me down. If my mother read this post she’d be very upset but that’s the way I feel, just remember little more went wrong apart from we didn’t get along…….. and as children often do, admitting we’re perhaps more alike one parent than we care to admit…………… or wish to be true can be hard!
But if there’s any blame to be thrown around then please aim toward me.
Not to long ago I wrote a very honest post titled ‘I only have one real regret in my life’, please read if only to perhaps dwell for a second on loved ones in your own life. Remember I’m a good man who made a mistake after I unconsciously absentmindedly carelessly and knowingly forgot to visit my grandfather in his care home, the reason is little more than apathy and thoughtlessness, well I’m determined it’ll never happen again to someone I love.
My mum’s going dancing with her friends in Eastbourne sooon, she’s 70+ and yes goes out dancing once a week with her girlfriends…………. fabulous what a lady 🙂 .
Well I knew for a fact she’d been enquiring Social Services with a view to finding dad respite care (extreme forgetfulness, we fear he didn’t keep his mind alive and active in retirement), I wasn’t annoyed when I found out because that is mum all over, rather than offload problems onto family members she gets stuck in trying to solve a problem herself. She contacted Social Services unaware to me, was prepared to pay and hadn’t told the family. However no luck, healthcare is stretched to breaking point around here and well cutting a short story even shorter, unknown to me she’d been unsuccessful and cancelled her dancing holiday without telling anyone.
I’m not angry only disappointed, there’s been no grumbling no complaining from me, she told her friends she wasn’t going yet she needs the care break.
At the weekend we had a chat over Sunday lunch (my weekly treat), the whole family is aware my father is unable to look after himself SO the upshot to my tale is, I’m taking time off from work and moving back home for four days to look after him on my own. I’m not going to be chief carer under duress mind, there’s neither reluctance annoyance or intransigence, he’s my father he needs caring for okay yes we’ve never been close but there you no one’s to blame, that’s life!
As for my mother on WP, I’ve only ever written with affection fondness (and watchful)because I love her, without becoming sentimental and weepy mum has been my only real true friend as mothers always are, she’s completely selfless caring loving and remembering back to my youth I now see mum pushed me in the right direction and gifted my sibling and I the tools to go out and make something of our lives.
And here’s a thought, back in the 80s while a ‘fifth former’ at school a teacher handed out application forms on behalf of a local engineering Company, for apprenticeships in trades such as toolmakers pattern-makers mill-rights electricians foundry-men, well I took a form, read it and decided I didn’t want to be an engineer? Goodness knows why but apathy’s me all over, not grasping this was a life changing opportunity, not forgetting I hadn’t a frigging idea as to what I was going to do after leaving school!! Well I showed my father, said I didn’t wish to apply, he didn’t seem to mind either way so I hid the form in a bedroom chest of draws.
End to the matter so I thought.
Next thing I know, the form is laying open on the dining room table and my mum ‘encourages’ me to fill it out with her help, then I guess buys the stamp and posts it……… I didn’t apply under duress, no I hadn’t been intelligent to realise the possibilities an apprenticeship could bring, hiding the application was simple apathy.
(Incidentally the 2/7 cardinal vice I’m afflicted by, the 1/7 being lust…….. jeeze the tales I could tell!! I mean the ones I haven’t already!)
Well to cut a long story short the engineering company contacted me for an interview, I sat a rigorous skills examination and ultimately became 1 of 5 successful boys selected from 160 to be apprenticed for in the trade of ‘one of above’……….. yes at first apathy and thoughtlessness (hmm interesting ) but then I got my sh#t together and earned deserved the position.
And I’ll be forever grateful W. # and Co. Ltd. gave me that chance, I’ve never lost sight 155 boys were unsuccessful and perhaps………. no such is life. But just know I wasn’t the reluctant (trade), those four years training were the most enjoyable happiest days of my life, I was paid a modest wage met fantastic lads and taught a trade by 3 very wise knowing skilled trainers who weren’t adverse to giving justified also unjustified discipline. One trainer’s conduct verging on bullying (he did) but there you are, we now live in a mollycoddled society where everyone feels entitled to God knows how many Rights, and if they feel in the slightest bit underappreciated or hard done by the Firm/Company is in Court and they want compensation………….. my take is sh#t happens, life can be unfair, suck it up, learn and move on!
I’m digressing now into a rant.
Oh yes the apprenticeship. I’m neither artistic or academic but I enjoy making things, well lucky for me five days a week I was paid to…………… and loved it! I was an intelligent 16 year old, I kept my mouth shut used humour to deflect criticism, listened wasn’t cocky or loudmouthed, lol I’m no angel just know I worked hard, learnt the Machiavellian skills of a politician to gain favour and keep out of trouble, I was a clever cookie, and by the end of four years the Company employed me full time in the trade of……..…….. I adored the job.
Well in summing up I don’t need to remind you readers it was mum who searched and discovered that hidden application form, she stood over me and helped me fill it out, she bought the stamp and posted though to be fair it was my skills talent and tenacity that got me chosen from 155 other boys, lol give me credit for that much 😀 .
But now all these years later I’m wondering what would I have made of my life if I’d listened to my father and just thrown that form away? What dead end job could I be in now? So now that I’ve given you an insight into my very own parental dynamics, my father was a good loving caring and kind man, but in many ways I feel he let me down. Am I being unfair? (On dad perhaps probably yes?) The upshot I’ll move back home for four days, cook clean care for dad and I know this won’t be the last time……….. I’m not annoyed or angry no my mindset is a positive ‘let’s see how it goes’, I’ll take my laptop and probably read and walk the dog hmm on reflection I’ll enjoy those.
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.
A blogging tip for you, I’ve discovered after three months ‘writing’, and note ALL my own original work, I have discovered I write my 😉 ‘adult posts’ when I’m feeling a little frisky that’s sexually excited to you!
And I’m wondering if my stimulated mind is because my brain is experiencing a natural chemical induced high………….. and note the word natural, I’ve never taken drugs and neither should you, two teenagers died the other week having taken contaminated shit at a music festival………….. what a waste……. so tragic! 😦
But I’m at a loss as to the reasons why a slight hardness and a gentle twitch down below helps my writing process hmm all very strange? Yep for fear of labouring a point when I’m in the mood to create on WordPress, and I’m a touch sexually excited the sillier more explicit posts appear in my imagination, I just write and the mild adult themes pour out of me as if I’m day dreaming, take my post ‘open apology to women’ as an example…………………. all very odd! Ok hold on before you get tooo excited I should add I’m not hard for hours, jeeze NO!
Perhaps those wonderful pleasure giving chemicals serotonin and dopamine secreted into our brains during sex makes writing easier, do you know what I think lovemaking chemical compounds make writing more enjoyable and sexually themed! Likewise adrenalin sharpens the senses and concentrates the imagination, quickens the heart when you’re about to orgasm perhaps I’m on to something here? And no I’m not writing this bs for the purposes of a humorous post! (Ok I’ll agree I’m writing bs LOL) …… anyways I thought I’d share this writing tip with all you lovely bloggers out there.
(Puts his laptop into hibernation for half an hour whilst he takes a lovely skin tingling shower, warm water flowing down his slim lightly toned figure.)
I’ve been thinking about this post in the shower and note the only place to idly dream up really good blog ideas, and yes I definitely find writing easier when ever-so slightly sexually stimulated or perhaps we’re more creative when we feel particularly happy, no let me rephrase creative in a certain way because many great works of fiction begin in dark recesses of an author’s imagination. I know my posts are absolutely dire when I’m depressed……….. and btw do you find the biggest frustration is being halted in free flow by a sentence which can be written 3 totally different ways, each as good as the other, yet for the life of you, you cannot choose which to use!
Hmm why not give writing a try when you’re sexually ‘turned on’ 😉 , the results could be hilarious awful or gloriously sensual but remember WordPress have mature content rules 🙂 .
(#MeToo themes, consequently age appropriate BUT my WordPress ISN’T an adult blog)
So have I? In my long years stalking (no walking) this planet, have I ever touched a woman inappropriately (sexually) to the point she’s had to say “No”?
And the answer is yes once.
But it’s never ever happened before or since, end of!
……………………..oh you mean you’d like to hear more? All the seedy details? Was I reported to the Police? Was I charged with sexual assault? Did she add my name to the #MeToo Twitter feed?
SO MANY QUESTIONS!
Ok before you or WordPress get their frigging knickers in a twist over my very frank and honest admission, the answer is I’ve never broken the law in my life hence I’ve never been arrested by the Police. Further, no one has ever reported me to the Police and my name isn’t linked to #MeToo, so the answer is a BIG NO to every question that’s hopefully surging your brain’s electrical circuitry right now.
Ok are we quite clear, and please don’t think I’m belittling #MeToo, as no guy ever should.
Having said all of that……..
December last year I was chastised for touching a woman’s V, but in my defence she was naked riding me reverse cowgirl at the time, consensually! However I’m fully aware a guy cannot assume he can do whatever he wishes to a woman’s body even though she’d previously agreed to have sex with him.
Similar to the majority of men across the globe I’ve followed the #MeToo debate with varying degrees of interest, not religiously but a newspaper article here, a TV news story there, HOWEVER my ears will always prick up when I hear a guy moan he no longer understands what the dating rules are anymore?
Are you aware last month Amazon announced, ’employees are allowed to ask a colleague for a date one time only’, which seems harsh when my Grandma said my Grandpa never stopped asking her out, she answered yes just to keep him quiet!
The rest is history, they reached their golden wedding together, had 3 children, 4 grandchildren and 5 great grandchildren so draw your own conclusions as to the new corporate dating policies!
Incidentally Amazon don’t care either way lol, they’re legally covering themselves and more businesses will follow.
As for guys no longer understanding dating rules, each time I hear this nonsensical argument, I shake my head because asking if #MeToo is being fair to men is a total no brainer. It’s not right to touch a woman inappropriately in 2018, as guys are fully aware, it wasn’t right to touch a woman’s body 30 years ago before asking, because well you just don’t!
It’s a no brainer argument, so why the confusion, I keep reading and hearing a small minority of men are confused? I guess the only confusion could be if a married man was wrongly accused, but that’s a whole other issue.
A woman I dated on several occasions, we didn’t have sx we were just good friends. well somehow our conversation stumbled onto tales of sx as you do, all very amusing until she said her first time wasn’t a happy experience, afterwards actually saying to herself,
“Well is that it? Is that what all the fuss was about?” in other words a considered anti-climax.
Hmm as often happens with a post I’ve gotten side tracked haven’t I, the perils of writing as you think. I began by saying I have been guilty of touching a woman inappropriately, Sarah was her name (not really), I made the mistake of touching her V without asking whilst she rode me reverse cowgirl. I touched her intimacy, she stopped bouncing up and down on my waist taking my long hardness deep inside her and having paused Sarah turned her head saying rather curtly,
“Don’t touch my foo (insert my name)”
I apologised and yes even though sex was consensual I SHOULD have asked shouldn’t I, Sarah helped me to climax and if you’re interested all was fine afterwards. We chatted laughed, drank alcohol and the incident was never spoken of again, perhaps for literary effect I’ve overplayed the episode but she chastised me with “don’t” and yes I should have asked first.
Sarah and I were cool afterward, I’d better make that very clear! And I have no idea why she didn’t wish me to touch her V? I’ve no problem with Sarah, she had the right to say no as all women do, a woman has the human right to say “STOP” at any time as do I!
Similar to most of us I’ve read true tales of sexual abuse in magazines and on the internet and I’ve even read that it’s not uncommon for a woman to say she’s been raped by her husband. The name of a specific article avoids me but I remember it took me a few seconds to process, hold on now? They are married couple ‘man and wife’, doesn’t the husband have conjugal rights? They’ve signed a betroth ‘in the eyes of God to be faithful to one another, he has the legal right to ##ck her doesn’t he?
But of course when I reflected on these marital bedroom arguments it’s absolutely clear rape can and does exist within a marriage, heavens above husbands do not have any Rights over their wives bodies. I would never assume I had a legal right to sexual intercourse, but I think if the guy’s been denied then the marriage had already passed the point of NO return.
I began this post discussing pointing out my puzzlement at a minority of men NOT understanding ‘these new dating rules of engagement’, I’ve heard them said on the TV, which leads me in very seamlessly to my own rules of dating engagement……. you get the idea.
I’m not a very tactile touchy feely sort of person, so perhaps I’m different from most men? Stretching a hand out to pat a woman’s butt cheek wouldn’t cross my mind, jeeze I’d never slap her ass and I would never place an affectionate arm round a female’s shoulder or lean in a little to close to her face, but some men still do.
I would never place my hand on her thigh, put my arm round her waist and certainly never ever grope a breast. I’d never try to steal a kiss from a lady, stroke her hair but I guess the consequences of mixed messages could perhaps come into play, you know, a date has gone particularly well so a guy might grope because he assumed sex was on the menu, but this would be a MINORITY of men.. Hmm perhaps I’m different to some men? I’d day dream of touching her breasts and pussy but I wouldn’t until asked to!!!!
However I’m most definitely far from being an angel, I’ll be the first to admit to admiring a fine looking woman from afar, appreciate her lovely hair, furtively gaze at her pert round bottom (I do this a lot ), my eyes drawn to a gorgeous pair of breasts, treasure her child bearing hips, appraise her ‘pins’ AND glance down her cleavage if the opportunity arises……….. which I most definitely do when she’s not watching! (Lol they know though 😀 )
But surely that’s ok isn’t it? Yes?
I mean as long as one doesn’t leer, side glancing at an open blouse is ok, enjoying a females sexuality solely by eyesight remains ok in 2018 doesn’t it? Like I said I’ll mull over the so called new rules and my responsibilities as regards #MeToo fallout, quite often actually, but I really am unsure if looking and appreciating beauty in a woman, is no longer socially acceptable?
Perhaps ladies HATE men looking at their bodies?
So ladies lol answer me, if you’re aware (feminine intuition and all that jazz) a guy is looking at you, enjoying your sensuality no sexuality, is that ok?
So what final conclusion could I share with you before wrapping up this post.
I would say, human male consciousness and #MeToo arguments are inextricably entwined, if any guy including myself doesn’t reflect on this statement from time to time then perhaps I and he should! However my mother brought me up to be a good boy, treat people how you wish to be treated, taught me by example how to care and empathise with my fellow man, I’m not perfect but I understand right from wrong. So Sarah I apologise (we kissed and made up), thank you for the lovely afternoon and banging alcohol induced overhang the following morning!
(And if you to are at all curious why reporter Ben Brown was groping a woman’s boob live on BBC News? Neither am I? And it’s late and I cannot be frigging bothered to Google!)