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?)
(Independent eBook review, in fact the authoress isn’t aware I’ve written this 😀 )
Attempting to write my very first kindle book review after having been absent from writing on WordPress since early June, is more than a little daunting.
Novelette synopsis (age18),
‘Ebby Scott has supressed her adventurous side far too long. An almost-thirty year old almost-virgin, she is given the chance to live out a life that has hitherto existed in her vivid fantasies and in the books she keenly devours. And Ebby has stumbled across the perfect place to help her unleash her erotic appetites.
Across each of three nights, Ebby faces her past decisions, her present choices, and gains a glimpse of her possible future as her sexual adventures become ever more steamy, satisfying, and liberating.
Meanwhile, her hopeful and adoring suitor Nick waits for her back at home.By the end of her three-night escapade, will Ebby return to Nick’s loving arms, or will she be unwilling to give up her new-found freedom just yet?’
I should begin by saying I’ve followed Ms. Libre Pavey’s blog for many months now, a gentle and eloquent writer she herself describes ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ steamy romantic fiction, all I can add is she’s not wrong! I’ll go further and admit to ‘hardening’ (come on work it out!) whilst reading in my garden, several arousals if truth be told my imagination drawn into Ebby Scott’s ghostly romantic encounters. Btw I’m reliably informed the difference between erotica and steamy romance, is the latter must have a story and this novelette is most certainly steamy romance with plenty of descriptive scene setting to hold my attention. Thoughtfully constructed around an original cute idea, enough atmosphere to engage my imagination with memorable lines such as:
‘………geometric squares of leggy jasmine and delicate wands of Japanese quince creating stark silhouettes.’
And plenty of beautiful naked breasts (for as you know I am a lover of ladies squidgy pink fun bundles, a breast man through and through), with pulse quickening lines such as:
‘….…..breasts tipped with jaunty cinnamon nipples, skin turned warm caramel in the low-lit glow.’
I should say at this point, Charles Dickens ‘A Christmas Carol’ is my very favourite work of fiction, in fact without fail I revisit this ghostly little tale every Christmas Eve for the past twenty-five years, and I did enjoy spotting the author’s clever parallels. Similarly written in descriptive staves with ghosts of past and present visiting Ebby’s bedroom, parallels not dissimilar to Dickens tale absent the steamy romantic sex goes without saying! As the authoress reminds us loosely based on ‘A Christmas Carol’ with even a little ‘Cinderella dancing at the ball’ thrown in, and here’s a thing being my first review I’m very conscious of not wishing to give tooo much away!
As an aside, Libre paley intrigues me because she’s one of the few ladies to dare comment my err sexually explicit posts, not only a beautifully skilled writer but I’d guess possessing a ‘naughty’ confidence, I guess I’ll never know! Hmm? Was my excited anticipation and eagerness to read because I avidly follow blogger Libre Paley, the lady being one of my favourite writers on WordPress probably heightened my reading enjoyment.
Thoughts aside, our heroine Ebby (the authoress) narrates the tale.
Ringing in my ears has been a little voice whispering “write a review but jeeze don’t give away the plot period”, and now I’m feeling perhaps I’ve sold you a little short? Not to worry, well paced sexually explicit and highly readable ‘Laying the Ghosts of Christmas’ was a most enjoyable read and £0.99 Amazon Kindle purchase well spent. 🙂
A. Shepherdson 2019 (My musings are a little ‘writing rusty’ tonight.)
I must admit I’ve been in two minds whether to publish yet another boob tale (said that before!) Blogger Lesley kluchin won’t be impressed and I don’t blame her, of all the lovely readers to reply Lesley isn’t adverse to giving Andrew’s virtual ass a written spanking, several occasions tooo, I love them!! I fear my sexist tales understandably challenge the lady’s mommy sensibilities also school teaching values and quite right tooo……… Still, Lesley’s a good looking woman for her age, just shows a woman can still be sexually appealing at age70😘 . (Btw she wasn’t offended when I wrote that because I’m a nice guy.)
Ok I’ve a breast obsession! I adore sucking caressing licking and gazing in wonderment, what more can I say? 😀
Seems an age since I’ve affectionately ‘objectified’ a woman’s body on this WordPress.
Omg summer’s finally arrived with a vengeance and Oxford city is crowded with (age appropriate) young ladies wearing fewer than usual, there’ll be micro cotton dresses revealing milk white thighs, hem lines sooo short that on a guy’s lucky day he’ll glimpse ‘cushions’ of knicker gusset captured in the breeze, and just imagine but for this soft delicate fabric I might see kitty lips moistened and glistening against the sunlight! The problem is I have to keep in mind I’m old enough to be their father if not older!!
Btw this has happened, I’m not complaining ladies but watch the skirt length for heavens sake my heart isn’t as young as it used to be! Or with the advent of #METOO am I deemed sexist for looking and enjoying?
Do you wish to know why I enjoy riding double decker commuter buses in sunny weather? (You know you want to 😀 ) I’ll sit beside a top deck window waiting for my evening’s ride to pull away from the pavement, with a forearm propped upon a window-sill I’ll gaze down at delectable University students (age18) and pretty female shoppers walking past, their animated laughter and chatter a joy to behold, better still and you just know what I’m going to share with you next, more often than not when hot summer days arrive, so do tight fitting tee shirts with plunging necklines and ample boobage jiggling their own merry dance.
And because I’m seated peering down from up on high I’ll watch out for the colour of their bras as they walk on by, and if fortunate I’ll see pastel blouses with their collars open and top buttons undone, omg it’s fabulous to be alive when gazing at milk white boobs nestling comfortably within cups of various sizes, and working down the alphabet from an A cup to a DD, on a REALLY lucky day and this only happens once in a while mind, when the angle of eyeline is correctly aligned and her cups are larger in size, then I have been known to coup d’œil a small brown nipple or two.
Now that we’re on the subject of ladies’ nipples and keeping in mind their SOLE function in life is so that a baby can latch on and drink mums’ creamy goodness so they’ll grow up healthy a strong, yum yum big deal………………..
(Ahh I’ve just had an idea! I’ve some ‘breastfeeding in public’ opinions that I’ll leave for another day 🙂 )
ERR where was I? Oh yes tales of peering down ladies’ blouses! Yikes could I get into trouble doing this?
However this sexy street theatre doesn’t last forever as our gruff diesel engine rumbles into life, alas my down blouse performance is over for another day 😦 that’s until I descend the upper deck stairs and I share this thought with you quite truthfully, again when luck is on my side (lotta luck required in my life, keep up!) A BIG breasted young lady has been seen standing waiting ready to get off, I’m hovering above looking directly down, and no word of a lie, a balconette bra separating two perfectly shaped breasts with her belly button clearly in view.
🙂 Btw she appeared like a vision one hot summer’s day last year, 😀 so ladies be aware!
Incidentally this saucy nonsense flows easily when I’m sexually aroused, why not try it yourselves dear readers? I should add the knicker gusset aided by the lifting skirt breeze scenario happened last August! Happy days 🙂 .
(Two ‘borrowed’ stock images which are NOT my own!)
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?)
Early evening thoughts with MILD adult themes…………. honest and respectful as always (comment if you’ve had your fill of my female sexual observations and objectification of the female human animal’s body)………….. my imagination I fear is out of control 7 o’clock at night, I’m incorrigible, my hardness is excited and twitching hence I write because these posts are fun and keep me interested when WordPress feels a lonely place……… 123 ahhh 😀
Does anyone honestly think this photo below is offensive?
A question for you, why is the female breast nipple such a big deal for a guy? And I’d agree with you ladies who say nipples shouldn’t be, after all they have one purpose in life to allow a nursing baby to latch onto the breast and drink mum’s milky goodness, big f#cking deal? Then babes grow into healthy toddlers…
‘Not a lot of people know this’ (a Michael Caine quote), but according to WordPress Statistics each and every single week, no less than forty-six occasions throughout this May alone! One particular post written by me June 19 2018 has been viewed from right across the Globe, and studying said statistics as I’m prone to do whenever bored, I can also tell you ‘that post’ is also my most viewed EVER!!!
I’m truly grateful and genuinely humbled btw.
Now I’m neither bragging or showing off, certainly not lauding this my original piece of writing as a gem of modern literature, (f#ck no), in fact I’m rather surprised this one is the most popular of all 190! So after a protracted prolonged build up I can tell you Andrew’s most viewed post is:
‘An open apology to women not wearing bras!’
So there you, in some respects I’m unsurprised a bra post is number one because internet aficionados tell us 90% of internet traffic is sex themed, not to worry though I’m rather chuffed and why not.
Two reasons for this evening’s ‘Blog’. Several day ago the fabulous LA of wakingupthewrongsideof50 noticed a blogging phenomena I’d not really thought about until then, I’ll quote in her own words,
‘Bloggers that gave up quickly: I noticed a pattern among them. Almost every one of them used the phrase “Join me (us) on this journey”. I have now decided that those words are the bloggers kiss of death. If you write these words on your first blog you are not going to survive.
As I have not done a research study on this, I can only give you my humble (?) opinion. When you use the word “Join” you are specifically writing to an audience. You expect that people will listen. Bad expectation.’
LA’s Join Me on This Journey post has itself become very popular amongst blogging readers because as she goes on to say, ‘anyone who has written for WordPress knows you blog for yourself’, with all your heart and soul you want to be read, to have followers, to be liked, to be commented and replied to, however writing for an audience is not the reason you blog.
Sadly (and yes I genuinely mean sadly) if you set tooo higher expectations of yourself, write with the expectation hundreds of people will read, then I’m afraid this will only make you unhappy because apart from a lucky minority (who work very hard btw) fame and popularity will pass you by. 😦 A sad truth and only ONE of many reasons why you have to write for yourself, though take heart people will eventually read and follow your writing journey.
I said two reasons. I’ll come to said second in a Mo!
I wrote ‘An open apology to women not wearing bras’ (did I tell you this is my most viewed ever?) For no other reason than I had an absolute blast possibly because it’s the type of post that gets me sexually aroused. Anyways I blogged this many months ago and ever since publishing week by week people across the Globe people have viewed (finger’s crossed enjoyed), and if there is a moral to this story then it’s write for yourself, embrace the creative process and whatever transpires is a welcome bonus.
Oh yes reason number two for this evening’s post! Well I have written yet another bra themed tale featuring women’s boobs and cleavage, which in turn gave me the reason idea to reblog ‘An open apology……….’ and why not ablogfromtheuk is my very own WordPress.
Tomorrow: ‘An open apology to women not wearing bras!’
🙂 A ‘penny for your thoughts’ dear Readers and NO this isn’t a sexual Post!
I’m curious to know if this photo below speaks to you? No SERIOUSLY, gaze at this woolly mammoth and I’d suggest after a moments thoughtful contemplation your emotional reaction will be similar to my own!! Well I’m hoping so, because my imagination struggles to appreciate this living breathing animal actually existed and isn’t a product of CGI science fiction.
So did you take a good long look at this majestic shaggy Beast? Imagined it roaming ice-age Siberia Tundra, or perhaps a similar furry specimen, with its small ears to limit heat loss in sub zero temperatures, following the route of the £1.5 billion A14 Cambridge to Huntingdon road improvement scheme.
You may be unaware a pair of ‘British’ mammoths were discovered here in 2018, and who knows perhaps the last two remaining species alive before receding glaciers covering prehistoric England pushed them into extinction!
So what an earth is the point to this evening’s Post? Baring in mind I know absolutely ‘diddly-squat’ about palaeontology, other than a great many Dinosaur skeletons have been discovered around Oxfordshire these past 200 years.
And yes, I’m genuinely mesmerised by these Googled digital images.
Several weeks ago my Workplace Human Resources Manager by the name of err Helen? (Her name befits my tale) ‘forwarded’ an email ordering me to visit and speak with her 9am Friday morning, nothing to worry about other than a general housekeeping chat and check up on how I’m feeling, lol a long story.
Now comfortably seated within her office, a cup of steaming coffee positioned on the desk in front of me, I’m silently looking across at this 35year old slim woman with mousy brown hair, pleasant in appearance and busying herself looking through Andrew’s medical records forward to her by Occupational Health. And yes I’d be lying if a wicked thought hadn’t momentarily crossed my imagination, visions of Helen bent forward over her desk ‘skirt pulled up, knickers down’ me giving her kitty ‘a good seeing to’ from behind!
‘Doesn’t everyone daydream of sexual possibilities with their work colleagues?’
Where was I? Oh yes woolly mammoths!!
Feeling bored and day dreamy, I glanced sideways through Helen’s office window looking across buff stoned University Colleges and distant open fields of South Oxfordshire beyond, a truly magnificent view for one reason! The 8th Floor of our Department’s workplace is in fact the tallest building across the whole of Oxford City, a ‘skyscraper’ constructed for unknown reasons many an employee has wondered about over the past 50 years.
“How an earth did the original planning application ever get approved, when Oxford’s strict planning laws limit buildings to no more than three stories tall?”
Visit the 8th Floor, and you’ll see unobstructed panoramic views of dreaming Spires,‘buff coloured’ Colleges and immaculate pea green lawns enclosed within high walled Quadrangles…………… jeeze, some Council Official must have been drunk at his desk the day this 8 story planning application passed through his hands?
Not to worry, when you are summoned to HR by ‘mousy’ Helen the real joy is admiring stunning City views through her office window, and it was at this moment I found myself momentarily whisked back thousands of years in time, near unbelievable vistas and visions of woolly mammoth giant elephant like beasts roaming across icy cold windswept Tundra landscapes, and what’s even more incredible these thoughts weren’t the product of any far fetched science fiction! I had to near prick my skin reminding myself these magnificent beasts ACTUALLY LIVED quietly plodding along (as elephants do) thousand year old tracks across this same land, and that truly blows my mind!
Then catching me unawares! Helen looks up into my face ready to begin her Friday cosy catchup conversation and with that all dreams of woolly mammoths disappear to be replaced by Helen’s lovely smile 😀 .
Clichés could well be a blog necessity, Creative writing ‘is a whole different kettle of fish!
Off the top of your head you won’t be able to answer this my question but I’ll go ahead and ask it anyway.
Oh sh#t! Excuse my bad language, wouldn’t you believe it I began this post with a cliché and come to think of it, ‘wouldn’t you believe it’ could be a cliché’ as well, hmm sounds awfully clichéd to me. Do you know what, I’m really unsure if I’ll be able to write another blog post ever again? 😀 , stop right there Andrew because you’re labouring a point and beginning to sound tiresome.
I’ve decided my new writing goal is attempting to spot clichés on my WordPress! It’ll be fun HOWEVER I’ll never be able to stop using them and perhaps they’re a prerequisite to blogging anyway.
Oh yes returning to that opening question you’ll be unable to answer, many months ago I happened across Ms. libre paley, quickly Followed, and avidly read her regular postings I’d both theme and describe ‘all you ever wished to know about creative writing and much much more’, and without trying to appear tooo gushing she’s a captivating (captivates me) beautiful read on WordPress…………… well she is! 😮 And I clean forgot what my question was?
(Incidentally a self published author)
Returning to today’s topic clichés and when to use and when not to use (jeeze I’m frigging addicted!), well this evening I read libre paleys’ (I’ll return to that apostrophe some other time)Eat your words, a truly absorbing post which for me is a little worrying reading, to begin with I’ll quote her Oxford English Dictionary’s definition: ‘A phrase or opinion that is overused and betrays a lack of original thought.’
‘They are bad news, go down like a lead balloon, and simply won’t cut it. In writing and any public speaking, we are advised to give them a wide berth, to avoid them like the plague or face the dog house. But are they a necessary evil?’
Any guide to writing will exhort us to avoid them at all costs on the basis they are trite, predictable, lazy, and the very opposite of creative.’
Six hours earlier this evening I published ‘I would vote for Donald Trump if he was British’ and please don’t bother reading, well I’d written no less than three yes THREE clichés in the first two line paragraph (and yes lazy writing). Now don’t go looking for yourselves because I edited deleted said paragraph there and then, the lady has a point, my clichéd introduction bared little or no connection to my slightly ridiculous proposition that I’d vote for Trump, who an earth would bother reading any further? The only possible drawback to Eat your words is that I’m now playing my very own game of ‘spot the cliché!’
A question I’ve asked my self many times over this past year or so, is ‘why do I loiter around WordPress?’ Well I’ll answer three ways, I enjoy the creative process, I enjoy the orgasmic thrill as I press publish, and honestly I gain real satisfaction from realising readers are actually enjoying what I have to say, honestly I’m quite humbled.
However believe me or not, I do fret over my limited writing ability and I realise I lack many grammatical skills, lol that’s not false modesty I’m quite happy and comfortable being aware of my failings because it spurs me on, exercises the old brain cells and forwards me to seek out alternative synonyms from time to time. Consequently it’s pleasing when the post reads how I hoped and wished it would read.
MY STYLE is little more than downloading the conversation in my mind at any given minute, that’s all good fun when it comes to entertaining blogging, HOWEVER downloading thoughts and opinions I’d define as tabloid newspaper reporting (and that’s OK!), true creativity is being enabled with the skills to write fiction and poetry.
I’ll share a writing tip of my very own (because I’m a giving kinda guy), it’s easier to write about sex if you yourself are sexually aroused, now where’s that hand of yours??
(I do have a post in draft form sharing my thoughts on how migration has been beneficial to Britain. I’m unhappy with this post especially the depiction of D. Trump so perhaps I’ll delete or perhaps it remains as the folly it actually is, I am undecided. Hmm this is the reason I avoid politics as a theme 🙂 .)
Now in all seriousness the concept behind Trump’s beautiful Wall appeals to many a True Brit, however you do need soldiers firing tear gas to make it totally effective, keep the migrants out that’s what we say!!
I am extremely careful commenting on another country’s politics, and certainly watchful of criticising or bad-mouthing another country’s politicians, ever heard the brilliant saying “those who throw stones shouldn’t live in glass houses?” BIG mistake! Critical discussion is fine but a writer will get himself into VERY hot water if he badmouths another Nation State even if their Politicians are corrupt incompetent liars much like my own.
That is why from the little I watch and hear of Donald Trump’s politics I will never attack him for putting America first, yes his Tweeting can be a little out there at times, and yes he shouldn’t be touching women’s vaginas but it’s all in good humour, we all make mistakes! To his credit he’s fighting for American jobs by slapping tariffs on cheap foreign imports, clamping down on immigration by building his new Wall, also tackling the more complicated issues of handing out work permits and immigration Visas as if they were going out of fashion.
If Donald Trump was our British Prime Minister today who knows I might vote for him, much the same as if I’d been born in 1950 I would have voted for Enoch Powell. If Prime Minister Trump unequivocally promised to close our Ports (we don’t need a Wall) and end workers migration from eastern Europe I would vote for his straight talking no nonsense leadership, and if the Houses of Parliament blocked his supply of funds? Over rule citing State of National Emergency and obtain the money that way, post tear gas shooting snipers at coastal ports where illegal migrants, and correct me if I’m wrong but isn’t this how you stopped the migrant caravan from entering America?
Racism: (def) prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against someone of a different race based on the belief that one’s own race is superior.
I am most definitely not a racist in fact I love yellow brown and black people ❤ .
Trump appeals to my political sensibilities because I am a white middle aged male, therefore privileged, his voting constituency, and as we’re all well aware white men can be very extreme in their views the older the become, and not only myself. I’d suggest a great many hard working British men and women would vote for PM Trump if he promised to halt migration in it’s tracks.
The United Kingdom cannot go on allowing 150,000 migrants refugees immigrants and asylum seekers into Britain every year, it’s madness unsustainable and will all end in tears……… oh it already has………. it’s called Brexit!
However I am NOT a racist, I’ve slept with any number of East European women and lovely ladies they were to.
Once again I’ll state as fact I am NOT a racist and there lies the problem, people both blur, cloud and confuse that having an intelligent firm but fair immigration policy is the same as hating black people! I’ll give you a scenario that upsets a Grandmother neighbour of mine, her Granddaughter cannot find a home to live in let alone save a deposit, my Town has an extremely large Polish community purchasing what little spare housing stock we have, there’s even the disgusting stories of Polish landlords extracting the front doors from tenant homes they rent out to British families, a 1950s illegal practice known a ‘Rackmanism’ and I could cite you many more migrant true stories.
The problem with immigrants is they covet your (yes you) standards of living, the only trouble is YOU have to pay for it.
Ok just two examples to be going on with, we grant asylum status to Syrian refugees, give them a home to live in, free schools for their children to be educated in, free healthcare when they become sick and how do their children repay us? To date 900 returned to Syria and joined Islamic State, there’s gratitude for you! Then after several years fighting and being radicalised a great many returned ‘home’, strapped explosives to their bodies, walked into the entrance hall of a Manchester music concert and murdered innocent children! British people collectively wept tears of sadness watching that evenings horrific News on the TV, and then they became very angry! Decent caring human-beings sickened and disgusted by the sight of Muslim suicide bombers murdering indiscriminately.
There’s gratitude for you 😦 , Britain gifts Muslims the milk of human kindness, only for them to blow up and murder British children, I think my heart finally broke that awful tragic day 😦 . All I wish for in life is to claim back the Country of my youth, that’s not too much to ask is it?
A Blog gifts me the privilege of writing as I wish (within reason) also putting thoughts into print, if you’ve reached thus far in this evening’s tale then I’ll leave you to decide and decipher which views are exaggerated and which views are heartfelt honest and tearful.
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!!)
I’ve enjoyed being a touch ‘toooserious’ recently, so how’s about something ridiculous light hearted & sexual for a change?
Now here’s my problem! The anal dildo toy is inserted ‘you know where’, however I am STRAIGHT! (Hold that thought there may be a Tale to follow ONE day!)
So returning to my question ‘might a person be a touch Gay if they enjoy ASS Play? Now calm down before leaving this post in disgust, I’m very FRANK and open minded guy when discussing sexuality on this WordPress however I’m careful with content and themes. I’m of the opinion sexuality is there to be talked about and yes I’ve experienced a lady’s ‘warm’ finger rimming my asshole and I HAVE to admit she sent tingles up my spine. Relaxed and laying on my side she inserted a lubricated ‘digit’, moved in a circling motion and YESSS the pleasurable sensations are pretty intense, if you really needed to know she also tickled my prostate which was OK but I’ll pass next time!
I guess I’m similar to all you lovely Readers enjoying how your bodies respond to touch however kinky that might be, AND now that we’re talking mild kink, a little light spanking is my own preferred limit because I’m a coward. The real fun is anticipating that momentary sharp stinging pain, the mental anguish is never quite knowing when she’ll STRIKE!!
Where was I? Oh yes Ass Play.
NOW don’t worry yourselves I’m not finally emerging from out the closet (oh you mean you weren’t concerned?) No I’m neither feeling Gay today or harboring any suspicion I swing both ways Bi sexual, however if any readers are Gay Lesbian Trans or whatever rainbow coloured array of gender preferred sexuality you are, then I think that’s fabulous, I’m all for diversity however I’ll freely admit gender fluidity isn’t a ‘condition’ I fully understand.
Having reaffirmed my straightness so important tooo this tale, reminded the reader I passionately and unashamedly enjoy sexual intercourse with women, all great fun however I will admit anal sex both intrigues and challenges my defined heterosexuality I cherish sooo dearly!!
Lol 😀 .
You may already be aware I dislike Pornography, however I’ll freely admit to watching one or two ‘naughty films’ in my time, all very tame poorly written atrociously acted, girl/guy vanilla action, 😮 yawn, jeeze they bore me stiff excuse the pun. I’ll also admit to having watched the occasional men err on top of other men Gay porn film and therein lies my problem, watching Gay sex slightly arouses me, all that frenzied animalistic ‘humping pumping and grinding’ turns me on just a tiny LITTLE. Now remember I AM NOT a closet homosexual but I’d be open to a ‘blanking’ in the ass, only once mind just to experience how ‘it’ feels?
And why an earth not?
Were you aware ancient Roman nobility before they were to be married would have one final homosexual fling before the big day! You mean you’ve never heard of this fact? I read it on the internet so it’s true, anyways returning to my anecdote, the noble groom would take a young man with him up to a small villa in the Tucson mountains, and there they would ‘you know what’ for two whole weeks!!……………….. Do I lol really need to explain any further?
Well the point being our Roman nobleman was straight, but he’d have sex with the young man to rid himself of any latent homosexuality, or so the web article informed me…….. hmm me thinks I’m getting myself into hot water here!
😀 On second thoughts I’ll give the ass action a miss and settle for a night with two lesbians instead!!
Or perhaps human sexuality isn’t ‘black or white’, ‘set hard in stone’, is as clearly defined as we’re taught to believe, perhaps we are all gender fluid to a degree and when drunk enough, and the opportunity arises, we would ALL be open to new different bedroom fun and games with someone of the same sex……………….. are we ALL bisexual to a degree?
You couldn’t pay me enough to kiss another guy mind, just imagining kissing men passionately on the lips is enough to bring me out in a cold sweat, send unwanted shivers down my spine however the thought of a guy ‘blanking’ me in the ass makes my dick tingle and harden ever-so little.
So this evening I’m wondering what defines a person as Gay, if you day dream of receiving a little ass action is that ONE fantasy tooo far?
(I warned you this would be a ridiculous tale, but they’re often popular on my WP 😀 and why not.)
🙂 I’m not a sex blogger, life has been my blog theme.
I love ❤ my mother but I fear I’ve taken mum for granted my whole adult life, perhaps we all feel this way from time to time? Saying thank you with a bunch of flowers accompanied by a greeting card with appropriate kind and thoughtful messages therein, is yes a lovely gesture to make once every March, but in reality is Mother’s Day little more than an exercise to ease a child’s guilty conscience? Cheerily lull them into thinking they’re truly appreciating all the selfless gestures and wonderful things she’s done for them over the years)
‘Cynical’ is my middle name at the moment.
This Post btw isn’t about Mother’s Day.
My Father passed away early April this year, his funeral being a week ago however I’d rather not say exactly where and the reason why. Oh yes an emotionally upsetting month to accept and live through, also a pivotal moment in every ‘child’s’ life (young or old) realising they will never witness that parent’s smiling face ever again, that is unless you believe in Gods Spirits and observing life for all eternity sitting on a cloud in heaven, and what if you DON’T like that person sitting beside you? But if you believe in the afterlife please ignore my flippancy 🙂 .
Then again perhaps I’m jumping the gun, forgetting I may burn in hell one day 😀 Yay at least that’s the last I’ll see of this mad world!
❤ Dad’s passing HAS reminded me of my own mortality, (jeeze that’s brought a tear to my eye and lump in my throat), last week I even sensed feeling the Grim Reaper’s cold hand tap on my shoulder, whispering:
“Just to remind you Andrew, don’t feel to comfortable I’ll be visiting you one day sooon”, (he has a dark sense of humour) ok perhaps that never happened but if you’re listening Mr Reaper, I’d prefer to leave it a little while longer thank you very much!
Enough talk of bereavement, Dad has gone however I will never forget him, happy memories remain and now I should must will devote my attention to looking after my mum, but I ask you, at what point do you stop and ask yourself ‘now can I be happy knowing I’ve done enough?’ Never?
🙂 Love and cherish a parent while they’re alive because you’ll miss them when they’re gone.
You my have read my earlier Post titled ‘Could have. Should have. Would have’, a personal true story laced with honesty and sadness, however I did worry afterwards, asking myself should mental illness be only discussed, approached and written about by skilled professionals.
I’m aware there are dangers, sometimes consequences associated with writing about bullying on the internet hence today’s posting.
You may or may not have agreed with me sharing this sad tale, (please say if you sense dangers therein), perhaps the two friends weren’t wholly responsible who knows? Anyways ‘title tattle’ wasn’t the point behind my tale, I’m just regretful I didn’t ask Karen out on a date that’s all, so yes forget my actual post for a second and please dwell on my final two IMPORTANT messages namely,
“Seize the day.”
“Don’t take a silly argument tooo much to heart.”
I know! I know, two well meaning easily spoken, sometimes trite messages you’ve heard said many times before, they’re both near impossible to live by however true as true can be. So for this post I’ll concentrate on outcomes that apply whatever aged in years you may be.
Always Remember throughout your lifetimes not everyone will enjoy your company and vice versa, and perhaps never more so than at school during those emotionally intense formative years.
Thinking back to my own schooldays, turmoil and whirlwind years having been discarded mixed within a classroom of thirty plus other unique individuals, and ALL from very different backgrounds where a disciplined upbringing may not be as loving caring or structured as my own. Sitting here now, I can tell you there are two or three children I’ve so far managed to avoid meeting as adults, thankfully our paths never to have crossed again and LONG may that continue!!
There are also many more I’ve either ‘bumped’ into at the most inopportune moments, enjoyed catching up with or hope to one day, and of course there’s those contemplative moments we all have, where I’ll pause, lick my lips, think to myself’ whatever happened to tall and slender pretty Andrea Hill? (Yes her real name)
Lovely ‘truly scrumptious’ Andrea Hill one of those 5% of young ladies, serene goddesses unattainable to us other mere mortals however that’s a WHOLE other story!
So finally tying loose ends together, jeeze I sound like Jerry Springer when he imparts his final message to camera after yet another God Awful TV program, the modern day updated version of Medieval Bear Bating for a viewers entertainment.
If you experience the mother of all arguments with a friend, a bust up of monumental disastrous proportions, unquestionably irreparable however hard you try, then perhaps settle your soul knowing the relationship just wasn’t meant to be.
If this scenario ever happens, I’d suggest talk to people you trust because you have to try and move on with your life, like I said, perhaps the relationship just wasn’t meant to be 🙂 and that really is ok.
The fact Fiona used to be a Politician (in other words a professional liar) makes justice all the more sweeter 🙂 .
Once in a while and every so often, a news story amongst tens of awful tragic upsetting events you’ll read that day, this one story WILL truly lighten the heart and gladden the soul as in Fiona’s fall from grace today. Justice has seen to be done, a criminal arrest has brought about a Just conviction and we the public who daily have to listen to excuses such as:
“But I wasn’t to blame” (when they were).
Can bask in the joy that someone breaking the law, repeatedly lying to a Judge, WILL have to serve a prison sentence behind bars and young children following this ‘soap opera’ (and I know for fact one 13yr old girl WAS) will understand crime doesn’t pay, lying has consequences and you will be foundout! Haah.
I couldn’t feel happier at this moment and 99% of the British population feel the same, (except there’s always 1% of do gooders who try to spoil the fun), btw this story has nothing to do with Fiona’s ethnicity, hold that thought.)
If you live anywhere around the world other than Britain (I NO longer prefix the word Great because we’re Brexit fucked), you won’t have heard of Fiona Onasanya, the disgraced Member of Parliament for the City of Peterborough, sorry the now Ex MP for Peterborough.
This sorry story all begins several years but to bring you up to date she’d already served her one month in Prison, then after early release served a further two months tagged on her ankle at home, and bringing you up to date today the Tax paying residents for Peterborough turned out in their thousands, cast their democratic vote and deselected Fiona as their MP. Yay 😀 .
Justice has been served and I for one am gleefully unapologetically overjoyed!
Fiona lied “persistently and deliberately” to officers about who was driving her car in an attempt to avoid penalty points. (The Judge’s words in Court)
To cut a long sordid story even shorter, MP Fiona Onasanya lied to both the Police and in Court repeatedly to avoid a speeding ticket, no instead of holding her hands up ‘admitting her guilt’ paying the fine, getting on with her life because we ALL make mistakes, no instead Fiona chose say her brother was driving and all before a Jury………. he wasn’t!!
😮 And what’s more she is was a Barrister by profession, pure madness?
I’m being very fair to Fiona, I wish her no harm, but as an MP representing her Constitutants there’s no place for lying to the tax paying public, a heinous crime every parent instructs their children is wrong, where would society be if we all lied, all of the time?
Well Fiona then ‘dug her hole even deeper’, instead of stepping down she chose to remain a sitting MP whilst in Prison, continued drawing a wage which really tipped Peterborough voters over the edge into full blown apoplectic rage (you should have listened to Radio ‘phone in’s’) and there our tale ends after she refused to resign triggering a de-selection petition.
Well several days ago more than 7,000 voters signed petitions at ’10’ signing stations and Fiona was kicked out of Office, she brought about her own downfall! This solicitor could have admitted her mistake, paid the fine and all would be well in her world once the ensuing fuss had died down.
Race has no baring on my opinions, in fact if she’d been white the sentence would have been harsher of that I have NO doubt……….. and yes me gloating is an unattractive quality.
(As promised I’ve a literary historical photography post for you today, yes the Great man himself Charles Dickens.)
13th APR 2019 I day-tripped to London by bus, changed onto the Underground taking the train to visit the Home lived in by Dickens for two years of his life, years later in 1925 the home was purchased then transformed into a museum, and now a ‘time capsule‘ revealing how Victorian homes actually looked inside.
The front door of 49 Doughty Street, now entrance to the museum in Dickens time owned by solicitor Henry Pickards, is a magnificent terraced residential home only 5 minutes walk from Farringdon Tube Station, comprising three floors, a scullery kitchen basement, and also a ‘loft’ we tourists weren’t allowed to ‘peek’ inside.
Read my ticket date above, “just sayin”. The map I’m also holding is printed from the internet, a free publication describing in detail ‘walking tour’ directions from Dickens Home all the way to St. Pauls Cathedral (a British jewel of historical architecture), incidentally showing a ‘route’ considerably longer than I’d first imagined!!
Alas virtually all of Dickensian London has been lost to years of redevelopment, both progress also a consequence of rebuilding this great City after 4 years of Hitler carpet bombing homes, buildings and factories by his Luftwaffe……….. what was the point to this monstrous vandalism? You tell me, on second thoughts please don’t! The truly surprising no unbelievable fact is Christopher Wren’s St. Pauls cathedral survived intact, incredible!
(There is a reason why, long story.)
On first walking through the front door to number 48, I was under no illusion I would be staying no longer than 1 hour, Dickens little known Museum is strictly for quiet thoughtful souls who wish to experience the Victorian atmosphere knowing this great man shared meals with his wife and children, wrote tales at his desk in the drawing room, endlessly climbed three flights of stairs the entire day (two up one down) and yes made love to Catherine in the master bedroom……………….. well come on yes he did!
Belowyou see amap essential to making ‘head and tale’ of today’s post, look carefully and both a floor showing three levels including the basement, also the various rooms inside 48 Doughty Street London, incidentally I was charged a very reasonable £9 entrance fee. Enter through blue door number 49, then once inside walk through a door into number 48 their family home.
1 Entrance Hall
The busy household passed back and forth on errands and social visits. Dickens often made, sometimes nightly, walks through the City he called his ‘magic lantern’. His neighbours were professionals, architects, writer and artists. yet the law courts, workhouses and slums fuelled his writing were but a short walk away.
(Remember Dickens was both a social and prison reformer, his father had been earlier locked up in a debtors prison, and Dickens would himself demonstrate outside Newgate Prison situated a mile up the road, in fact he was instrumental in having prisoner hangings moved to behind prison walls to the public’s disappointment!)
2 Dining Room
The location and grand architecture of the house was ideal for launching Dickens socially. This elegantly curved room played a key role. As a rising author enjoying his first flush of success, he entertained many leading figures here.
Pictured above, a dining table and bowl displaying any number of ‘plastic fruit’, Dickens bust hanging from a wall, and a lovely young lady tour guide wearing a very becoming ‘black and red’ check shirt! And yes I made a point of chatting to her 🙂 because I’m very friendly that way 😛 .
Remarking “you seem very tired” as she yawned 😮 , the young lady smiling answered “yes I am”, then standing one foot on the bottom staircase, hand resting upon the banister about to climb up, I turned grinning and said “this way to the bedrooms?” Well she actually laughed out loud finding my enquiring rather amusing (or because she was Dickens bored), all good flirty fun 🙂 don’t you think? You gotta at least try and make women laugh even if SHE IS thinking ‘jeeze he’s old enough to be my father!!’ 😀
3 Morning room
Catherine Dickens used this family room to arrange household matters, spend time with the children, welcome visitors and write letters. As a Dickens travelled often, much of their daily communication was in writing. Surviving letters show their happiness as a couple then.
Stepping into the second ground floor room I’m now standing in Dickens Morning room, as I said earlier I wasn’t under any illusions, there’d only be so much to actually see wandering around someone else’s home, but standing in his writing room is quite a magical experience, standing affront Charles’ writing desk reading a page written in his own hand, knowing he possibly quill penned tales of Scrooge and Tiny Tim, Oliver Twist and Fagin, Pip and Miss Havisham possibly three of the greatest tales ever written, I truly sensed the standing on hallowed ground feeling or is that a little pretentious?
That desk sits affront a window probably because rays of natural sunlight are considerably brighter than the gas lights hanging from the morning room wall, I can attest to the rooms gloominess and the reason why my photos are slightly grainy……….. Tourists are banned from using a camera’s flash!
(Descend one flight of stairs into the kitchen.)
The servants prepared the family food here, managed by Catherine Dickens, the mistress of the house. Traders came in and out with supplies. Victorian Kitchens were often low lit, home to vermin, and filled with heat and smoke from the cook’s fire.
Above 5 photos: The ‘cast iron’ cooking range, a dresser displaying china plates, looking upwards through a window onto Doughty Street, looking back through a doorway towards the Washhouse, and glass bottles standing on a shelf.
…….. and who knows what evil chemicals they contained in Victorian times?
5 & 6 Scullery and Washhouse
The maid washed clothes and dishes here, and cleaned around the house on a demanding schedule. Dickens’s sympathetic portrayal of servants endeared him to domestic staff around the country.
7 Wine cellar
Dickens wrote about both the pleasures and harmfulness of drink. At home, he kept a good cellar to lavish his guests.
8 Drawing room
As a child, Dickens improvised performances for friends and family. As an adult, he delighted in hosting amateur theatricals. In a later home, he had a rom made into what he called ‘The smallest Theatre in the World’. From the 1850s he would take his book readings to the public stage, becoming a celebrated solo performer.
9 Dickens’s study
Dickens had a strict routine, writing without distraction from breakfast to lunch. Then he might visit his Club, work on one of his charitable projects or take a long walk. He filled this room with a vast collection of books.
Below looking out upon the rear garden, and at current London property market prices helped by number 48’s provenance, I’d suggest this home is worth 2 digit £1,000,000s?
Above two notable and extremely famous artist prints hanging from a wall, to the left Dickens a middle aged man seated in a chair. To the right the Ghost of Christmas PRESENT seated upon an enormous pile of presents, clutching a lantern of Christmas spirit in one hand, and lecturing Scrooge as to the error of his ways!
….………….then again he could reminding Scrooge that phantom number three, the grim reaper incarnate follows sooon!!
Staircase (Between First floor & Second floor)
Below, photos pointing upwards to the master bedrooms & looking back into the Drawing room.
10 Mary Hogarth’s bedroom
Dickens experienced one of the most upsetting events of his life here, the death of Catherine’s’ sister Mary Hogarth. She was s 17 years old and apparently in good health. The shock devastated the family. Dickens struggled to accept the loss of someone he considered pure and good. The sentimentality of death scenes he later wrote is rooted in that traumatic even.
11 Master bedroom
While living here, Catherine Dickens gave birth to Mary and Katy. She would go on to have 10 children by 1852. Dickens separated from Catherine in1858. But when they lived here, they were largely contented and shared this bedroom.
Pictured below, and standing beside the Master bedroom four poster bed could be Catherine Dickens herself looking out the window onto Doughty Street. On the bed you see laid out garments of period clothing, whether the stockings belong to Charles or Catherine I have no idea………… but I can tell you two of their children were conceived here, yes Victorian sexual intercourse!!
(I’ve often mused ‘did Charles visit local side streets and sample the infamous Victorian ‘two penny knee trembler? Don’t be tooo shocked upstanding fine gentlemen visit brothels!)
Hmm pictures above remind me of that ghostly little book ‘A Christmas Carol’ once again, remember a frightened Scrooge sitting upon his four poster bed, the curtains drawn around to keep the three spirits at bay, no? Well why not go read this wonderful novel and see for yourself 🙂 .
Incidentally, I read ‘A Christmas Carol’ on Christmas Eve every single year.
Pictured above, is yes a reflection of myself taking a photograph towards the dressing wardrobe mirror………… alas my youthful head of hair is a ‘long ago’ distant memory!
12 Dickens dressing room
Dickens washed, shaved and dressed here. In 1840 the historian Thomas Carlyle described Dickens as clothed fashionably rather than ‘well’. This ‘fine fellow, Boz’, he wrote loftily, has ‘clear blue intelligent eyes’ and a ‘face of the most extreme mobility’ topped with a ‘loose coil of common-coloured hair’.
13 & 14 Nursery and Servants’ bedroom
The attic was the domain of the children (Charles Junior, Mary and Katy) as well as the servants, away from the more public spaces of the house.
I didn’t take any photographs of either the Dressing room, Nursery or Servants bedroom, there’s only so much culture you can ‘snap’ in one day.
(Regular readers to this WordPress will be aware I would never ever EVER! Make fun of a woman for a readers pleasure, no most definitely not. Yes at times I can be err a little out there 🙄, but just be aware I adore these mesmerisingly delectable creatures, and note I’ve spared the reader of actual photographs, 😊 and I’d guess you’ll be thankful for that!!)
One of the saddest true stories I could share with this WordPress involves a girl, a 17 year old girl I used to attend secondary school with many years ago, her name is Karen (for this post) and NO this isn’t one of my tales of an adult nature.
Karen was rather short with wide hips though not overweight, and far from being a plain girl she was attractive and unremarkable and I don’t mean that in a nasty way, 95% of the population are unremarkable and average looking, I am you are, what I’m trying to say is if life had turned out differently, Karen with her blondish hair may well have worked in a Bank like her mother, married say an electrician, their destiny to birth two children own a dog and live happily ever after on some middle England housing estate.
One November afternoon inside the top floor bedroom of Helen’s London flat, the curtains drawn in the middle of the day, the quiet hum of traffic outside, a smell of burning incense, candles lighting our room and me with only one thought upon my mind!
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?
File this under happy childhood memories, my first true love 🙂 .
A thought just crossed my mind, I’d guess I’m not only person to have fallen in love with their school teacher, no love is tooo emotive a word, sexual infatuation fits better or is experiencing strong feelings towards an adult every child’s first real sexual awakening, a young teenager’s rights of passage have you will?
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 😀 .
A post notto ‘overthink’ about for tooo long. And used in the correct circumstances ‘that phrase’ is justifiable! 🙂 .
My two blogging rules of thumb are, to enjoy the writing creativity process and would I enjoy reading? If yes then I publish, if I regale the beauties of a woman’s wonderous body then all’s the sweeter 😀 .
Sexism (noun): prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women on the basis of sex.
I do love the internet because amongst all the horror stories from across the globe, on any single day you can always be guaranteed Twitter will become engulfed by a social media shitstorm, a polarised debate between two opposing groups of mortally offended keyboard warriors working themselves up into a frenzy.
(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?
I was reminiscing the other day, recalling happy memories, enjoying thinking about the women I’ve slept with throughout my adult life, now without breaking confidences my Virginity was taken many years ago by a lovely lady named err let’s call her Jemma, yes not her name but Jemma suits her. Now I’ll refrain from letting you in on that wonderful afternoon because I’ve already written a post sharing that fabulous experience, very emotional and possibly the best afternoon of my life…………. btw this tale will appear on a blog near you sooon!
Never assume that guy standing behind you in ‘The Deli’ queue is deciding which soft cheeses to buy!
Standing behind you in our shared bus queue, so close I could reach out my arms encircle your waist and draw you close into me, that hard bump below, my aroused groin pressing deep against your shapely pert bottom nestling between two barely visible peach shaped ass cheeks…………… but alas I can’t, I shan’t, I won’t nor ever would………. I value my reputation, cherish my liberty tooo dearly to put my fingers inside a sugary delicious sweetie jar.
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.
Genuine colour photographs taken of Britain in the 1950s, the member’s of the public pictured aren’t actors and the film hasn’t been colourised! (Alas I’ve misplaced the link to the website.)
🙂 I’d loved to have lived in 1950’s England, but I’m wondering was life back then as idyllic as the photos suggest? Or am I suffering from a condition that afflicts many people my age, wishing for ‘the good old days’ that never were!
Because I’m a Brit I don’t follow closely all the political goings on within America unlike in my own Great Britain, a broken Country that once had ‘it all’ then either gave ‘it all’ away or had it taken, a once great nation, the trouble is now I cannot avoid watching awful Brexit news and Brexit madness across the internet.
Anyways returning to my theme today, America!
I’ve never visited the US and would love to one day before I ‘pop my clogs’ so to speak, I’m really am a big fan, whether following politics or life in general America is captivating and enthralling. Yes I’m a political animal who’s chosen not to discuss politics and religion on the internet, forthright opinions only upset and annoy readers so what’s the point, and I’m convinced people are more interested in writing as an antidote to real life as opposed to………….. jeeze where do I honestly begin?
Viewing America from over here on the opposite side of the pond I’m a fascinated observer, I’m a space nerd and truly grateful America landed a man on the moon later returning him home safely. A brief anecdote for you, one afternoon several years ago, laying beneath a warm duvet spread out on the living room sofa, I watched live footage from the final space shuttle flight to service Hubble, in total I think I watched NASA’s live stream a solid 18 hours a day, as astronauts meticulously replaced Hubble’s Giros and electronics using simple tools worth millions of dollars. Then only several days ago another American first as Dragon Module successfully docked with the space station.
A new space era begins.
With engineering skill, luck and a fair wind the prospect of man yet again walking upon the moon’s surface is a distinct possibility and I truly hope I live that long because yes as you know I love viewing the moon through my telescope, I’d be beside myself with joy and excitement if man returned.
So I’m asking myself how bad (media opinion) can life truly be living in Trump’s America? No one can doubt he loves his Country and puts America first, severs trading with countries who employ cheap labour and import good which close American factories down and put people out of jobs, he’s building a wall to halt the influx of South American migrants from illegal entry, not forgetting the walking caravan of drug dealers and Muslim extremists….. he’s putting America first, standing up for the ‘common man’, upholding a treasured Constitution and preserving a national identity thus ensuring it’s people a good quality of life……… you cannot knock him for being a patriot.
Btw I’m not being sarcastic!
After Brexit and I win the lottery I may even emigrate there………… or Australia………… or Ireland, trouble is I don’t play the lottery!
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?
“Mutton dressed up as Lamb” Is a British way of describing a (deluded) older woman who is dressed in a style more suited to a younger woman, also slightly derogatory because she’s deliberately trying to appear young.
Or you may prefer Bernadette Matthews definition at mumsnet.com:
‘Too much leg and cleavage on show at the same time!’
Regular readers to this WP will be aware I love interacting with other writers, well this evening I’ve a response post prompted by the excellent LA and her thought provoking blog Forever21, I urge you to follow she’s possibly my favourite blogger, slightly irreverent, ladles of honest American attitude and oozing oodles of common sense,.
‘I dressed in an outfit that I thought was good for the event and that I felt confident in. And basically, this is how you should feel when you walk out the door. A friend saw a picture of me and said that I looked stylish and sexy, which of course was my exact goal. But then I started to wonder- was I starting to push it?
So, while we were on line, I said this to my friend, who is in excellent shape and looks great for any age, and she simply shook her head and said “Yeah. I know. When do we actually look good for our age, and when do we start to look ridiculous.”
Ok I agree, LA probably didn’t have the derogatory and unfair ‘label’ mutton dressed up as lamb’ at the point of her writing ‘when do we look good for our age and when do we start to look ridiculous’, but hey they make interesting bedfellows don’t you think?
I’d suggest the what to wear dilemma hardly ever crosses a guy’s mind, I’m age 50 and feel completely comfortable wearing charcoal black jeans matched with a light blue Oxford long sleeved shirt, perhaps a sweater and smart shoes, all very casual, a look I could wear at work or down the pub of a weekend and I’d guess no one gives me a second glance………. HOWEVER I have no doubt what NOT to wear is a real headache for the older woman!
So as I’m at a lose end I did a little on-line surfing all in the name of research, oh and because I’m a guy who knows sweet FA about fashion! Then I happened across this jewel of Debenham’s research which said,
‘When it comes to fashion, nine in ten women aim to dress younger than their years. And more than half say they won’t start ‘dressing their age’ until they are at least 70’, further ‘Over half said they began to dress younger in their 30s and 90 per cent admitted they had started to dress younger by their mid-40s’.
Now LA’s a lady who loves lists and these Top 10 Items You’re Too Old to Wear, read as brilliant advice, and remember I know sweet FA about fashion, clueless, however I’m as quick to judge and point my finger as every other guy so why not give an opinion! Hmm, and I wouldn’t disagree with their 10 ‘fashion minefields’,
Message tee shirts
Too trendy denim
Micro mini skirts
Anything Showing Excessive Cleavage/Visible or coloured bra straps.
White, Ribbed Cotton Tank Tops
Oversized decorated Hobo Bags
Cheap unflattering underwear
“But trying too hard only calls attention to yourself – it’s overcompensating. You don’t need to dress like a teenager to look young.”
As I’ve said before I’m a keen observer of the human female mammal, read my posts, and I would suggest the true bananas skin, fashion fau-pa opportunity is sexiness, get it wrong wear a short a black leather skirt, heals inches too high, blouses too low cut are a recipe for unwanted attention from men, and disapproving looks from women worried about losing their man and I ain’t saying nothing about looking like a hooker!
Just avoid anything four inches or more above the knee and add tights to make a short skirt less risqué, say the experts. Or wear chic straight skirts, classy being the watchword, allowing you to show off some curves without making you look as though you’re pretending to be born after the Bill Clinton years!
It’s a worry but classy is the watch word, trouser jeans you can wear from the PTA meeting to a party when paired with the right top, stylish padded shoes with wider thicker heels and definitely avoid anything that shows excessive cleavage or visible coloured bra straps……….. or any underwear for that matter.
I realise the older woman would never be caught dressed like this, whoever lol thought low-cut jeans and thongs was a good idea? But I guess the saying ‘you’re only young once applies!
Apparently the more mature lady ‘shouldn’t feel she needs to show it all off. Anything below the middle of your bustline has got to go,’ ‘A little goes a long way,” and no excessive ‘boobage’ past the age of 40, displaying too much sagging skin apparently is a no no, so go for a blouse underneath, unbutton a few buttons and you’re going to look sexy but classy’.
Having said all that, the summer of 2018 was one of Britain’s hottest, and I can recall as if yesterday sitting on the top deck of a bus, looking out the window and watching a woman age 65 if a day. Totally captivated I was, for this mature lady in her blue pencil skirt and restrained high heels wore a tight fitting tee shirt with, wait for it, no bra! And all I’ll add to that is she was a ‘big girl’ yet looked both classy and ravishing!
Way to go madam.
And now we arrive at number 9 ‘Cheap, Unflattering Underwear’ and I’ll profess to being an interested expert! As I’ve written before M&S tells us most women are not fitted properly, a woman’s breasts and body sags so I guess underwear needs to be as supportive as it is sexy.
Having said all or that, our Group Secretary at work throughout Summer wears low cut print dresses displaying her ample assets, the only trouble is us Technicians are NOT listening to our lecturing Professor! Yep I agree, appropriate sexiness is where an older woman can look classy or yes ‘Mutton Dressed Up as Lamb’.
And finally advice from the experts.
“Every woman must make her own decisions about when to break the rules, but what you’re striving for isn’t to look youthful – it’s to look ageless, this way, you’re going to look fabulous because the look is appropriate for you.”
2 questions for you, do you know the average length of a human male erect penis? Also have you ever wished to know? If so read on!
I’m a respectfully playful soul on-line, all good fun and it passes the time quite pleasurably, so having tagged this post NSFW, I think it’s ok to share a question that’s sparked and arced my juvenile imagination for as long as I can remember, namely ‘how long is an average length?’ Btw please note this post’s content is about on a par as a woman’s magazine or an encyclopaedia!
Let me begin.
So yes I’m wondering this evening, how long is average length in inches OR centimetres? And no we’re not talking about the length of my telescope! So what do you do when you have a question that’s always puzzled you? You Google ’cause the days of visiting the library are alas long gone…………. yikes it’s been ages since I last visited a public library 😦 .
Amazingly, as of this moment in time I can only remember asking one lady this rather unusual question, and she gave hand-relief for a living! Well think for a second it’s just not the question to ask in polite company is it, women that is, because we men will discuss our lengths until the proverbial cows come home and compare when group showering………… oh yes we will, and do!!
Before I get to the point of sharing my vital statistics, and you just knew I was going to share my length didn’t you? Here are a few facts and figures to keep you amused. And yes I did once get a steel rule out to measure, I’ll admit to that one lol. So let’s talk statistics shall we, yes I researched facts and figures on the www, then blended with my own thoughts and opinions as always, that is apart from several highlighted quotations lifted from appropriate websites, i.e. thoughts on body image!
A collaboration between King’s College and our very own NHS polled 15,521 men, wow that is some serious studying, measuring both their penis length and girth when erect, now wait for it! Are you sitting down comfortably?
The average length of a penis when erect is 13.1cm/5.16″, now didn’t you always wish to know that? And there’s more, the average girth (circumference) is 11.6cm/4.59″ now I have to say if that’s the average then I’m feeling rather deflated!
You want more stats? Ok, the average length when flaccid is 9.2cm/3.16″ and the average softened girth is 9.32cm/3.67″,again I’m feeling slightly deflated if you’ll excuse the pun!! Now if all those figures seem low to you, it just goes to show the size of one’s penis isn’t such a big deal after all, and perhaps the length of a man’s aroused member, swollen appendage ain’t worth worrying about anyway!
More stats? I’ve got them! Only 5% of erect penises are bigger than 16cm/6.3″ long, now that figure cheered me up no end (excuse the pun), likewise only 5% of men have a penis shorter than 10cm/3.94″.
And now to growing old? For those of us closer to the end than the beginning penis size does get shorter with age, men in their 60’s to 70’s may lose 0.4″ to 0.6″ in penis length and interestingly, I never knew this, any increase in body fat percentage can result in the penis appearing smaller as a man ages………… now there’s an incentive for keeping one’s weight down, 0.4″-0.6″ may not seem a lot to a guy but it may mean the world to your partner!
More facts and figures? Ok one more, an internet-based survey of more than 50,000 men and women revealed 45% of men would like a larger penis.
‘Each penis is unique and boys develop at different ages and rates. During puberty, usually between the ages of 11 and 18, the penis and testicles develop more rapidly, although the penis doesn’t stop growing until the age of 21.’
So what does the fair sex think?
Several studies that I happened across during my not so scientific research, suggested penis size is much lower on their list of priorities than for say, personal grooming also a man’s personality and all I can say is thank goodness for that! That’s the best news I came across all evening! In fact 85% of women were satisfied with their partner’s erection whereas only 55% of men were satisfied with the length of their own, and speaking for myself every guy is so very proud of his own appendage but when asked we’d all admit that we’d prefer a longer one……………. now I detest visual pornography but I did happen to watch a movie starring this black guy by the name of ‘Mandingo’, incredibly he had a 30cm/12″ penis and what’s more he knew how to use it!!
😮 12″ ffs!
According to a Professor Wylie on the internet? (Seriously the website said ‘Wylie’, or were they taking the piss?)
“It may come as a surprise to some young men, but most women have very little interest in the size of their penis and that’s been shown in numerous studies over time, research shows that when it comes to sex, women are much more interested in whether you are romantic, tender and sensitive to their needs and desires than your penis size.”
Yet more data for you, and come on be honest we all like comparing our preferences to national statistics. A published report by UCLA no less, showed 84% of women feel “very satisfied with their man’s penis size”, though that doesn’t differentiate between girth and length? Yes men worry whether their penis will sexually satisfy their partners but apparently we men can get equally anxious worrying about how we look naked, and personally speaking how my body is perceived by a lady does worry me!
And now we come to that old chestnut does size matter? Of particular concern for some men is whether their penis will be sexually satisfying for themselves also their partner, and according to the internet, when it comes to sexual intercourse bigger may not always be better, now there’s some good news for you!
In yet another study, researchers interviewed 75 sexually active women asking what size of penis they would prefer for a one-night stand, apparently they preferred a 16.25cm/6.4″ erect penis and a mind blowing 12.7cm/5″ in girth, that’s circumference to you keep up, 5″ wow that’s BIG!! However women in long term relationships preferred a 16cm/6.3″ long penis with a girth of 12.2cm/4.8″, now in my opinion that’s still one big penis!
Yet another similar study of women’s preferences, published in BMC Women’s Health, found that penis girth was more important than length for sexual satisfaction, hmm interesting!
And what about people with big feet? Yeh that old wives tale. Well no evidence has been found linking penis size to foot size or ethnicity, so a no to that fake news, and like I said it is believed that a higher BMI and old age are weakly associated with a shorter erect penis……….. and note, there is some truth in the fact men who drive big cars have small dicks!
Btw if you are a guy reading this just for fun post and wish to measure your own length erection, get a rule then measure from the base where it connects to your pubic bone, right to the tip of your glans which is the bellend purple helmet, however don’t forget to subtract any additional length associated with foreskin, that’s cheating! As for girth, I measured the width of my shaft inserting the figure into a maths equation 3.14xD or 2×3.14xR.
Oh and I came across this gem observation,
‘Feeling inadequate can really damage a man’s self-confidence and affect his social life. It can lead to issues from being unable to using public urinals or shared shower rooms, to avoiding intimate relationships.’
Well personally speaking I have never ever looked at a man’s penis when inside public urinals, jeez can’t you get arrested for that? But being serious for a second I guess a worried teenager/young man could feel inadequate, leading to low-self esteem, affect his relationship with women but the good news is all this research tells us women aren’t to bothered by size anyway? Similarly research sadly appears to show anxiety about penis size may arise after taunts from other children during adolescence, or remarks from a sexual partner and I can imagine that level of bullying would hurt.
(Left, a Greek statue)
And finally penises of course feature throughout art history and culture……. As we know from cave paintings and ancient sculpture man has always placed great importance on the size of his penis, with many cultures associating penis size with masculinity, what’s more throughout the ages, long penises had come to symbolise qualities such as virility, fertility, strength, ability and courage. Some cultures even went to extreme lengths to try to increase the size of their penis, and don’t imagine I already know these following two nuggets of trivia because I didn’t, apparently Indian mystics known as Sadhus had been known to stretch their penis from an early age by hanging weights on it, while the Topinama tribesmen of Brazil encouraged poisonous snakes to bite their penis to enlarge it.
If you suffer from low self esteem here are a few tips to help with positive body image, incidentally lifted directly from one of those Medic websites and so very true.
‘If you’re unhappy with your body, whether it’s the size of your penis or the look of any other part of you, try these helpful tips for feeling better about yourself: Focus on the characteristics and body parts you do like, such as broad shoulders or a nice smile. Maintain a healthy weight and incorporate strength training into your exercise routine. If you look fit and healthy, you may feel better about yourself. Don’t become consumed by penis size. You can be a satisfying sexual partner regardless of the size of your penis. Don’t compare yourself to athletes, models, and actors. You’ll develop an unhealthy and unrealistic image of what is normal and how you should look. Spend more time and energy on pursuits you find rewarding, whether it’s sports, hobbies, traveling, or other activities. Lasting self-esteem comes from nonphysical traits, such as creativity, intelligence, and your values.’
Wouldn’t you agree that’s sound advice for life in general?
So I guess if there’s any conclusions to be made, it appears plenty of men wonder if they are at or near the average penis size, when the actual truth is a majority of men are within a close range of the average length and girth………………… hmm do I have tooo much time on my hands?
Oh yes I nearly forgot to say my appendage erect is a good percentage above average length, yay! But alas I’m a percentage smaller on girth the figure women Reallyworry about 😉 , and no I’m not saying by how much! 😀
So is an average length of 13.1cm/5.16″ a surprise to you?
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.
‘The weekend is finally here, and that means that it’s high time for a glimpse into a new story. Well, to be more precise, a flash fiction that might have the potential to become a more complex story..… eventually.’Alexandra Ispas
Today I’m reblogging original fiction written by a lady I Follow and yes the story is written for meee!!
Okay I should be less obtuse and qualify my boldish claim by saying authoress Alexandra Ispas’s blog ‘It’s A Small World’ is a place she write’s flash fiction every weekend, (my own reading genre isn’t fantasy but who says you must read specific genres?) Anyways retuning to this my introduction, Alexandra chooses a favourite album song of hers then writes a tale inspired by that song’s narrative and I enjoy reading her tales.
I only realised days later February 9th was my birthday as well! (Lol 😀 ?)
If you wish to read the lady’s original post click here: U2’s Where The Street’s Have No Name or alternately read below 🙂 and if you are a U2 fan then you’ll know doubt spot a few song lyrics in there. Enjoy 🙂
(This time I’ll be creating a fantasy flash fiction out of U2’s song, ‘Where The Streets Have No Name’, a song requested by A. Shepherdson. Cheers for the inspiring idea! Now, to get straight to the point, here’s a little fantasy for your craving imagination. I know you want it!)
An old man once told me that there’s a place without a name, a safe haven in a forgotten corner of the world. He said all contact with the outside was broken, so that peace and quiet would prosper.
These days, I craved for peace and quiet like I’d crave for air if it were to be taken from me. Yes, I craved peace and quiet like a page craves for ink and a flower craves for sunlight. I could do without it for a little while, but it wouldn’t be long before it would swallow me up and devour me to the core.
He told me:
“Take the street that has no name until all your love turns to rust. Beware the beating of the wind, but don’t fear it. Take shelter from the poison rain, for it is bound to strike if your path is true, and unnamed obstacles will slow you to a halt. Remember, it is better to pause and continue later than turn around and return where you began.”
I never found the street without a name. I asked for it, but, of course, all streets needed a name, so nobody knew one without it. Nobody in the mortal world. That could only mean one thing: the street without a name was in another world, one I took for certain was impossible to exist. Was the Faerie Realm truly real? And the Elven Forest and Giants’ Mountain? How about the Siren’s Lagoon and the Dragon’s Pearl Haven?
For the first time in my life, I saw these children’s stories with a whole new pair of eyes, but it was still too difficult to believe. In spite of all logic, I returned to the old man’s house at the edge of the village and ask him. What exactly, I would think about on the way, maybe, but I knew I had to see him. He was my only lead.
I only arrived as darkness fell like a curtain. As expected it appeared like the old man was home. Pale light shone through the smoky windows and the smoke of a warming fire rose through the chimney, its clouds disappearing without a trace in the night.
Knocking at the door didn’t help, so I allowed myself in with careful movements. Maybe he was asleep.
But what I found inside was nothing like what I had seen my last time there, and neither did I find the old man I was looking for. There was no chimney fire lighting up the furnished room and no presence of life whatsoever. As a matter of fact, the place I entered was not a room at all.
(Yesterday’s visit to a famous Victorian London cemetery didn’t go entirely to plan, I had a lovely day but alas didn’t take any photos, in fact no one in our Tour Group did and perhaps the reason is a simple ‘photographing the dead is yes a little disrespectful’, but I’ll maybe still write about the day.)
And yes I’ve changed this week’s publishing dates but not to worry, however I’m still visiting a famous Victorian cemetery this Thursday.
Now don’t go worrying yourselves on account of me, oh you mean you weren’t 😀 !!! No I haven’t recently cheated death and very much still alive thanks for caring, but I’m hoping my Post Title intrigues you?
The longer we live and the older we become, increases our chances of meeting our maker sooner than wished for or intended, yes contemplating ones own mortality is perhaps slightly macabre but I do find myself remembering back to ‘close-calls’ in my past, and often visions so crystal clear they’re all but photos in my mind, moments in time which I now appreciate were most definitely one of my nine lives lost!
(Tag this post late evening contemplation and NOT a wallowing in nostalgia for shock effect.)
There was the day I fell from a tall rock whilst on a Geography Field Trip as a teenage schoolboy, looking back I now realise I fell an awful long way but lucky for me Devonshire’s Bodmin moorland was spongy wet having soaked up a great deal of rain! I work alongside a disabled work colleague and I’m certain that fateful day was my own ‘there but for the grace of God’ moment, my lucky day not to be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of my life. The older I become, the closer to the end than beginning I’ll be and I’m more convinced than ever that life is little more than luck and chance. Do I believe in a preordained life’s journey mapped out by an all seeing, all knowing God? Jeez talking of Gods is a WHOLE different blog subject.
In the words of a famous British surgeon, “hug and kiss your family before they leave home in the morning and hug and kiss them before they go to bed at night.”
Anyways returning to my second brush with mortality.
There was the car accident I was involved in as a twenty-two year old man when one pitch black evening, driving a rain soaked road I turned a bend in the dual carriageway only to be faced by a line of stationary traffic halted by red traffic lights.
As I ploughed into the rear of an ‘Austin Montego’ but lucky for me everyone and anyone close by, I’d managed to decelerate to ten miles an hour? I’m unsure how fast I was travelling when I hit, but it’s true what they say my split second traffic accident happened in slow motion, why is that? A fear coping message from the brain warning a human being to be braced for imminent danger ahead?
(Everyone says accidents happen in slow motion, so it just has to be primitive man’s trigger signal for FEAR!!!)
Iwas both lucky and unlucky, lucky I avoided serious injury, perhaps unlucky that the sharp jolt to my neck, a whiplash of my spine perhaps causing an epileptic seizure months later, perhaps a mere coincidence or resultant brain injury.
Either way that was the second of my nine lives used up.
So that’s two close calls that have sharpened my mind tonight and moments I’ll most probably remember till the day I die, and without sifting my tired late evening brain still further, I’m sure there’ll be other close calls……………. only a shame I cannot remember being near suffocated to death with a knicker-less vagina sat on my face and me unable to breath, now if one’s time is up I can think of worse ways to die!
Alas not 😦 though I have a facesitting tale to tell.
Joking apart I have one overriding memory of one particular day where I know for certain I came close to dying, as an age twenty-nine year old man holidaying in the Greek Islands I suffered an epileptic seizure whilst swimming in the sea, and quite by luck and chance I recognised trigger warning signals secreted into my mind’s consciousness, dragged myself from the cold Mediterranean sea only to fall onto my back on the shorelines and experience a seizure laying in two inches of seawater.
Again I can recall this frantically panicked memory as if I was staring at photos clasped in my hand, I remember the bright sun in the sky, I remember being at all times lucidly conscious but most of all I remember cold seawater lapping around my two cheeks and thinking ‘if water enters my mouth then it’s all over!’ If I’d heeded the trigger warning seconds later, if I’d stumbled on sharp stones as I pulled my body to the shoreline I would have fallen in four inches water instead of two, and being as there was no persons close by I could have……………. well………….. you know………… died all because of a wasted two seconds.
Young children are totally oblivious to danger yes they live without fears or seeing danger, but it’s only as adults that we realise tragic accidents can and do happen at the most unsuspecting of times, and thinking back over my life I think my Grandmother was most attuned at spotting possible dangers her Grandchildren were close to, I sensed her caring worry many times and it’s only later in life that I realised one tragic past event possibly altered her perception of what’s dangerous forever.
Mind you her constant nannying near drove me exasperatingly bonkers, but now I understand why, my age gifts me a wisdom carefree children just have no comprehension of UNTIL experiences have taught them to carefully assess a situation of all possible risks!
(If you never fall how will you ever learn falling hurts? With the moral being don’t play a game of chicken in the path of a train!)
So yes I’ve had close calls and been both lucky and unlucky in life but I’ll often remember back to my seizure in Greek seas as the closest I’ve come to dying, I’m NOT being macabre for effect, I don’t think it hurts to occasionally stop and contemplate mortality if only for a second.
I’d guess you’ve experienced moments in your own lives that were a little tooo close for comfort!!!
I didn’t finish my intended Friday’s post, so instead I’m going to reblog a (favourite) tale I first published September 2018…………. however before I begin you’ll need to be reminded what a Happy Ending is, it helps my narrative (also brings to a close my Topic for the week, some may say “thank goodness”).
Urban Dictionary defines ‘Happy Ending’ thus: ‘When a masseuse feels inclined to finish your session with oral sex or manual release’…………… and forget the word inclined that’s what I paid her to do!
One blustery autumn afternoon in late September, a few months ago now! You’d have found me laying naked on my back, not a stitch of clothing on my body, my legs wide apart and a Romanian lady by the name of ‘Dana’ kneeling before me, a truly beautiful gorgeous lady gazing down upon me, a delicious wicked smile across her face oh and the reddest glossiest lipstick you ever did see.
“Do you enjoy giving gentleman hand relief?” I enquired,
And when you ‘come’ to think of it massaging a male client’s back muscles with dextrous skilful fingertips, finishing the massage with one hand gently curled around his erection and gently rolling his testicles between thumb and finger with the other, has to be one of the strangest occupations ever!
“Yes I do honey”,
Dana answered with a wicked grin, her lubricated right hand rhythmically stroking my love length and circling my purple helmet with warming palms, the joyous tingles and pleasurable sensations coursing from the tip of my penis down to my groin are near indescribable………… only men understand how gorgeous and beautiful those stimulated nerve endings alter his mind, his breath quickens, his hardness bucks and pulses as he draws ever closer to climax.
I once gleaned from secretive Dana where she’d learnt her gift for massage with an erotic twist from? She said after arriving in Britain as an economic migrant, earning money to pay for a deposit on land back in her native Romanian village, she first stayed with a friend in Birmingham but had no job, no income! Then one day her flatmate suggest they both rent a bedroom, advertise ‘certain services’ on an adult website, both working giving intimate Swedish massages…………. massage ‘services’ you’ll not find on your average Town’s High Street.
Well fast forward her tale several years and Dana rented a bottom floor box bedroom within a back street terraced house in a part of Oxford, a place where you’ll not leave your car unattended………….. put it this way if you did, your car wouldn’t be there when you returned!!!
I’d better shorten my winding complicated tale because you all lead busy lives, just understand whilst surfing the net one evening I happened across this LEGAL adult website giving intimate massages, phoned the mobile number hoping I was speaking to the lady in the photographs and well I became her 4 o’clock afternoon appointment that same day.
You’ll all know by now I’m an honest guy, well the website is legal, the ladies are over age 18 and working independently of their own accord and incidentally Dana stresses she gives no sexual services………… which means neither penetration or felatio……… shame really because as I gazed into her eyes I didn’t half fancy a blowjob!
Well I travelled by bus to Oxford, found my way to the given name of the street, texted her for the house number at 3.55pm, then upon reaching the address told her my name through the intercom beside the front door. A buzzing sound came from said door lock and there standing in the hallway was one of the most beautiful young ladies I have ever seen in my life, slim gorgeous with a beautiful smile and warm becoming blue eyes.
I introduced myself and yes she was even more beautiful than her photos suggested, then followed her through one of the many doors into a dimly lit warm and cosy bedroom………..virtually absent of furniture other than a single bed with duvet, centrally heated, carpeted, very clean and extremely tasteful.
I handed Dana the advertised price and then stood there near speechless looking like a complete and utter lemon wondering what to do next? Until she said,
“Well take your clothes off!”
“All of them?” I rather lamely answered she must have though ‘Jesus I’ve a right one here!’
“Yes all of them honey” she said laughing now, “then take a shower” glancing past me toward an even SMALLER side room (wardrobe) no bigger than a shower cubicle………… err that’s what the cupboard was!
So, and writing here and now this anecdote still makes me laugh, Dana stood there in her fishnet stockings, latex high waisted tight fitting hot pants (no knickers hold that thought!) also a black bralette revealing two of the most exquisitely shaped high round breasts you ever did see, I’m still smiling because this lady I’d known for sixty seconds stood but a metre close to me inside this tiny bedroom, and I near felt her burning gaze as I slipped down my boxer shorts, I glanced up and yes she was appraising my ‘bits and pieces’ ………… now just be aware I’m a clean bunny who was freshly showered wearing clean underwear, but as instructed I took a shower after being handed a fluffy soft towel.
(Why are Hotel towels always white?)
I ought to admit at this point I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Dana one time several years ago, she gave me a finger in the ass prostate tickle but as the days past afterward, I decided the service wasn’t for me…………… yes one for the bucket list but I didn’t enjoy it!
Well now I’m laying naked on her bed face down, a clean towel spread lengthways along the spongy quilt, arms down by my side then Dana places herself sitting on the tops of my legs, her two thighs either side my own and truth be told in a VERY firm vice like grip. Both Dana and I now comfortable I hear her squirt massaging oils into one hand from a bottle, then she began to push her hands deep into the small of my back, gliding them along my spine around my shoulders and all I can say is if you’ve never experienced warm skilful fingers work their magic on tired tight muscles, especially around the shoulders, if you haven’t then omg you haven’t lived! I will add Dana finger’s kneaded pushed and pulled tense muscles but not to worry she brought a true tingling warmth into my skin…………. btw I felt fabulous afterward!
And all the while we chatted about BREXIT, yes you did read right, she’s a working migrant from Romania! I talked about my family, we discussed Oxford architecture and I soon discovered Dana was witty personable friendly qualities you ascertain within minutes of meeting someone new, Dana is an intelligent young lady, then after 15 glorious minutes had passed rather abruptly she said,
“Now turn over!” Having first moved to one side,followed by a firmly spoken, “spread your legs wide!”
Dutifully I ‘widened’ presenting my bits and pieces in what was a rather precarious position, with Dana finally sitting her bum on her thighs kneeling close between them, and omg you just have to know this goddess of a lady was so beautiful with the prettiest sweetest smile you ever did see……………. and a wicked gleam in her eyes! Like I said she enjoyed jerking men off, maybe the thrill for her was being in control and dominating a man, or perhaps giving hand relief is just a fun way to pay the gas bill? Either way it’s times like these that I’ve never felt more alive.
Dana now wearing a pair of delicate latex gloves from a box, slips them on, cups my testicle sack with the palm of her left hand and curls lubricated fingers around the shaft of my penis with the other, oh and I forgot to add I’ve rarely been so hard erect and engorged before. I’d guess staring at her gorgeous boobs and plunging cleavage was the reason for that…….. oh as for knowing she wore no knickers! Well put it this way slightly parted thighs and tightly fitting hotpants revealed all!!
I should say at this point do I really need to graphically explain the process of hand relief? Men of course understand the ‘process’ and I’d guess all women have serviced a partner, anyways all I will add is Dana possessed a skilful technique she described as luxurious (it was!) Well she worked her dextrous magic, my penis bucking as I’m brought to climax then bingo she directs a stream of warm semen across my stomach……………. any men reading appreciate the joyous heavenly pleasure.
(And with boobs as exquisite as those two you’ll appreciate I even impressed myself!)
So there you are the Swedish massage with intimate ‘happy ending’, and for any ladies reading all I can say is if you’re in search of a well paid fun occupation, you could do worse than train as a masseuse…………….. oh and I forgot to say Dana’s Birmingham flatmate gave her the confidence and now she gives ‘happy endings’ for a living!!!
(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.)