Congress

Last weekend we were away attending the Scandinavian ******* Congress-this is the same event as we went to last year (described here and here. N.B.You MUST now follow these links; I’ll be asking questions later and anyway there’s more kinky sex there) and the same venue but here the similarities end.

Last year we were allocated a spacious room with a large double bed. Someone at the conference centre must have read what we got up to in it because this year we were put in a rabbit hutch with one single bed and a put-me-up sofa. However, as things turned out, this didn't matter too much.

The next difference was in the speakers-There was a packed programme of top class speakers from this country, Norway, UK, and USA. We were so busy that we didn’t even time for a quickie between the end of the Saturday session and the start of the evening entertainment.

Now, if you knew what Mr and Mrs Controller did for a living you would probably assume it was quite staid and boring. One of the keynote speakers, a Brit who we'll call Terry Rushden, put on an amazingly funky presentation as he explained why he was passionate about what he does with the aid of terrible 80's disco music, alcohol and a large rubber cock (Gallus Domesticus, that is - not Penis Vulgaris). There were also picture quizzes with spot prizes-Heather correctly identified a pomegranite and won a pair of plump ripe pomegranites and of course a kiss or three. Later on I identified a picture of a bottle of vodka though I didn't win the bottle or even get a kiss. I did however win a round of drinks for everyone at our table. Terry told me later that when he gave a similar presentation at another international gathering he made his exit on the back of a Harley Davidson ridden by some big hairy biker. On this occasion he made do with going off arm in arm with a couple of cheerleaders.

The gala dinner afterwards was a cheery affair with plenty of good food and booze and naturally we gravitated to the bar afterwards. Anders was already there, with Terry, getting the drinks in. Now Anders is a good friend. A native of this country, we studied together at university in England. He had lived in London for some years after graduating but was well-established back here by the time we moved here. He lives about 80 miles from us. Terry I had never met before but he had worked together with Anders on several occasions. It turned out that Terry had graduated from the same university as us, five years earlier. This put him in his mid-fifties unless he was one of those child prodigies and I must admit he looked bloody good on it. He himself joked that there was a picture of him in his attic which is slowly crumbling.

We had a good time, and the jars of winter brew were lining up on the bar but we gradually noticed that Terry was becoming less interested in student reminiscences and increasingly interested in a raven-haired beauty, who must have been 15-20 years his junior, at a nearby table. In no time they were laughing and joking together and his arm was soon sliding round her waist. Shortly after, they both disappeared while we carried on drinking long into the night.

Compare and contrast: Last year there wasn’t much of a party going after dinner, and we drifted back to our room at 11-ish and had a hot and kinky sex session instead. This time we rolled back to the room at about 3.30 well and truly drunk and ready for beddy-byes. There was no question of dressing up or of reaching for the toys, but as Heather sat on the sofa pulling off her clothes in an uncoordinated way I found there was still a little spark of lust stirring in the old loins. I waited until she had undressed completely and was sitting in somewhat of a daze, wondering what to do next, then stood in front of her, propelling her shoulders gently but firmly back until she was lying down. She lifted her legs obligingly and I fucked her. Now this didn’t go entirely smoothly. Women don’t always realise that when we men have had a few drinks the extremities tend to go a bit numb. I was pumping away in her, and she was gloriously wet, but I was feeling exactly nothing. She sensed I was having some technical difficulties and stood up instead, leaning over the sofa so that I could fuck her from behind, between tightly closed legs. Still nothing. In the end I had her roll over and lie back and I grabbed hold of my recalcitrant little appendage in a vice-like grip before it shrivelled up completely, gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and at last spurted my seed all over her tits. Honour having thus been satisfied we both tumbled gratefully into the one single bed and were asleep before we could even get into a fight over posession of the duvet.

Next morning we woke with a start with about ten minutes to go before the start of the first session. Showering and dressing hurriedly, and with no time for breakfast, I grabbed a banana and a glass of iced water and sat down in the auditorium. And there I was, sitting as if fossilised, motionless with a hand holding the banana to my mouth, staring into the middle distance and trying to summon up the energy to take a bite.

”Suits you” came a voice from beside me. It was Terry, looking indecently bright and chirpy.

For the rest of the morning he and his companion of the night before seemed to taking great pains not to be seen together, but later, at the mid-morning coffee break I happened to notice the interaction between them. He was sitting in the lobby as the Raven Haired One walked past. No words were exchanged, not even a glance, but there was just the faintest flicker of acknowledgement between the two and she couldn’t suppress an enigmatic smile. Is this the etiquette for someone you’ve met at a conference but know you are not likely to see again any time soon?

I suppose it must be although, sadly, I lack experience in these matters.

Doing Without

(no, not that…well, that as well but that’s not what this is about.

When we were out shopping last Wednesday we called in at the telecoms shop in town. We had several things we wanted to sort out: Heather’s mobile was acting up so she changed it for a smart little model that’s better than mine-I’m madly jealous. We also managed to get Sons’ agreement changed to a cheaper rate-he’s costing us a fortune.

And then we enquired about a faster internet connection. We’re online much more now with the business and some applications were starting to be noticeably slowed by a lack of bandwidth. No problem, they had a special offer on at the moment and we could upgrade our existing ADSL service to 15 Mb/s at no extra cost. It would all be in place by Monday morning.

”Do we need a new router, or change any settings?” I asked.

”No” came the answer ”It will all be sorted out remotely and your existing equipment is fine". As they had supplied the equipment in the first place, and all the details were on the screen in front of him, I was reassured.

So, as of Monday morning at one minute over midnight we were able to enjoy net access at the blazing speed of…0.0 Mb/s.

Our first inkling that all was not as it should be came at 3.15 a.m. when our alarm company phoned to inform us that they had lost the connection to our alarm system. Presumably they were just making sure that bad guys hadn’t cut our telephone wires or something. Which was nice.

Monday morning 9a.m.: Still no net access and worse still, no credit card terminal. This also runs over ADSL these days. We phoned the telephone company, and having got someone to finally admit that it might just possibly have something to do with changing our connection, he promised to send a techie round to look at it. Tuesday. I thought that it was way beyond coincidence that a previously well-functioning connection should go tits-up on the stroke of midnight just as they were changing it over, but to show willing I double-checked everything, powered down the routers and re-booted the computer before powering them up again. Not that I thought it would do any good-nor did it.

So for all of Monday we were in a strange twilight world of no internet. It’s only when you lose it that you realise how dependant on it you have become. Even Heather, who is a hardened techno-sceptic commented that it was like losing an arm or something. We had orders to place, advertising copy to fetch from our suppliers and forward to our advertising agency, e-mails to send. All of these had to wait until we were connected again. And our customers couldn’t use their credit cards.

Midday today the techie came. It took him about half a minute to hoik out the old ADSL router and stick a new one in. I could have done it myself. The most complicated bit was putting a new screw in the wall.

”I did ask the guy in the showroom if we needed a new router and he assured me the old one would be ok” I told him.

”Yeah, well. That’s showroom assistants for you” He shrugged. ”Do you want to test it?”

And so we’re back on line after 36 hours in the cyber-wilderness. We’re back and faster than ever!

Pub

So me and the trouble-and-strife went down the rub-a-dub-dub last night…

So far, so unremarkable, you might think. Couples go out to the pub for a drink all the time. Difference is that for us there is only the one pub and it is twenty miles away in our nearest big city. It’s not that often we go out there and rarer still that we are there together. However, on Wednesday we took our traditional day off to do our Christmas shopping and, being all shopped-out by 8 pm, we had a nice meal in a cozy restaurant and then went to the pub. Now apart from the inevitable 'Irish' pub there are three pubs in town that call themselves 'English pubs' . There is the 'London Pub', which apart from a badly-painted picture of Big Ben outside has nothing to do with England whatsoever, The 'Old Games Pub' which has tennis raquets and cricket bats stuck up on the wall and serves Guinness as it's claim to 'Englishness' and The 'John Bull' which is owned by Carlsberg/Allied/Tetley/Domecq or whatever they call themselves this week and which has been ruthlessly fitted out in their own house style apparently with bits left over from their latest round of vandalising real English pubs and which has a selection of their gassy keg beers.

And then there's 'The Wharf'. It doesn't claim to be an English pub, any more than your local claims to be an 'English pub'. It doesn't even look like an English pub. It just is. When you go in there and see a dozen or so familiar (and not so familiar) ales racked up, hear English spoken on both sides of the bar, and order your beer in pints you feel at home right away. This is the pub where the Brits congregate. You can get Walkers crisps and meat pies, there is a quiz night once a month.





When we went in there on Wednesday night the England-Croatia game was well under way. Two big flat screens at one end of the bar were showing it on BBC. At the other end, two further flat screens were showing the national team over here doing rather well against Iceland, but no one was watching that. We slid onto a couple of vacant stools at the bar-vacant because they were right under the screens- amid shouts of "C'mon Gerrard, my son" and "NO WAY was he offside you WANKAH!!" It could have been one of a thousand pubs anywhere back home.

I ordered a pint of Wychwood ‘Dogs Bollocks’. The barman grinned and shouted "One load of old bollocks, coming up" above the general din. When he turned to Heather she played along, saying that she’d have a taste of my bollocks first to see how she liked it.

Second pint up was Hook Norton ’Hooky Gold’. The barman grinned across at me.

‘You know you could do a half and half with Hooky Gold and Dogs Bollocks. We call it the ‘David Beckham’.

“OK”, I said wearily “Why David Beckham?”

“Because he’s got golden bollocks”.

“I bet you’ve been waiting all night to use that one” I said.

He grinned a lop-sided grin, I leaned on the bar, closed my eyes and let out a long, satisfied sigh.

Just for a brief moment I could make-believe I was in England.

Come and visit us sometime and I'll buy you a pint in The Wharf.

And So To F...

(A prize for anyone recognising where that title comes from-without googling it!)


”You’ve sprayed perfume down between your tits, like whores do to attract men. Are you my little whore?”

”Yes” she replied.

”You want men to swarm round there like bees round a honey pot, don’t you?”

”Yes, you guessed”.

”You’ve used it to attract me. Are you my little whore?”

”Yes, I’ll be your whore if you want.” She whispered. ”But whores don’t kiss. Don’t you want me to kiss you?”

”That’s not true, real whores will do anything their gentlemen desire. If the price is right.”

”OK, I’ll kiss. But it’ll cost you”.

”That’s my girl, that’s my good little whore”.

”Anything else?”

”How about you put on your reddest lipstick, then kneel down on the floor and I’ll handcuff you with your hands behind your back and use the same lipstick to write ”WHORE” all over your forehead and your tits, and ’FUCK ME NOW’ on your belly with an arrow pointing down to your cunt?”

”Not tonight, eh?”

”OK then”.



Half an hour before that intimate little conversation I was just finishing up the previous post when Heather came wafting into the office. I have a very acute sense of smell and I could detect her perfume long before she arrived. Earlier in the evening as we had sat and watched a little television she had freed herself from the confines of her bra, but now as she approached me I could see that she was wearing one again, and from the way she was nearly bursting out of her blouse it was not the one she wore to work. She wanted to see what I was up to, whether I was ready for bed. I told her I was just finishing up a post and that she was to promise not to read it until the morning. Reluctantly, she agreed, but she guessed that I had written about what I had wanted to happen that evening and didn’t want to spoil it.

We got ourselves upstairs as quickly as the necessary chores would allow and I lit candles in the bedroom while Heather finished in the bathroom. I was undressed an lying on the bed when she came in and slowly stripped off. The bra was one I had bought her for christmas. It was black with red decoration, heavily underwired and see-through where it mattered. Under its direction her breasts were shaped and swelled to two magnificent mounds high on her ribcage.

She’d changed knickers as well. Though they looked like plain black regulation knickers at first, they were made of a stretchy material and had three horizontal slashes across the hips, revealing tantalising glimpses of her fair skin beneath.

She sank down onto the bed beside me and we kissed. We kissed like it was the first time. We kissed like we wanted it to last forever. I was intoxicated by the smell of her perfume and I just wanted to keep on and on kissing her. All the bitterness of the previous week melted away in that one glorious kiss. Everything else was forgotten as we lost ourselves in each other.

And while we kissed, my hands started to explore the softness of her breasts. I had insisted that she keep her bra on so that I could enjoy running the back of my hand over those beautiful curves and nuzzling them so that I could breathe in more of her perfume. I didn't know how she would react to me asking her to be my whore, I'd never done that before but she fell into the rôle like a 'pro, so to speak.

Our lips joined once again to kiss. Harder this time, more intensely. She reached round behind my head to press it closer to her as she devoured my tongue. I grabbed a handful of her hair and twisted and she arched her back, pushing herself into me. She broke away and made for my earlobe, flicking the little golden stud in there with her tongue-something she’s never done before. I buried my face in her neck and reached down for her crotch, where a damp patch was spreading across her knickers.

She rolled onto her back, looking up at me as I knelt over her. I cradled her head as I pressed my face down onto hers again and as my other hand delved down between her legs again, her hand reached up between mine. I started to tease her labia free of the edges og her soaking knickers and as she rolled onto her side I gathered up the material as it spread out across her bottom and pulled up hard so that it bunched up in her crack like a thong. She gave a little gasp and rolled over onto her front so that I could pull the thong even higher, framing her lovely round buttocks and accentuating them. I ran my hand over them and grabbed handfuls of them.

”I’ve been a naughty girl. I need punishment” She pleaded.

”Hmm, we’ll have to see” I replied in a hoarse whisper. ”How naughty? How much do you need to be punished?”. Visions of whips and chains flashed before me, but no. That would take too much preparation. I would have to break the rhythm - worse still, turn on the lights- while I found the necessary bits and pieces. The moment would be lost. We would have to save that for another playtime.

I slapped her across the bottom, first on one side and then, harder, on the other side. She whimpered, and a hand up between her legs confirmed that this treatment was having the desired effect. Another slap. This one really connected and she let out a yelp of pain.

”I’m going to have to put you over my knee. Stand Up” I commanded. I swung round until I was sitting on the edge of the bed, with her standing meekly beside me, head bowed. I guided her down until she was spreadeagled across my lap and smacked her bottom again and again. Hard, stinging smacks that made her wince and cry out until she was on the verge of tears.

And then I bade her kneel up on the bed and drop her knickers around her knees. I clung to her and she clung harder to me as I reached down into her sodden, slippery cleft and gave her just the few strokes of the fingers that were all that was necessary to tip her over the edge. Again she cried out loud as she collapsed, holding onto me for support and I wrapped both my arms around her as she slumped into me, stroked the back of her head and kissed her shoulders and comforted her as the gooseflesh and the chills coursed through her.

Then, without saying a word, she sat back on her heels, rolled over on all fours, jutted her bum up in the air and parted her legs, inviting me in between them. I gently pushed them together again. I Straddled her instead and pushed deep inside her. She looked somehow so tiny and fragile from that viewpoint, with my hands clasping and enveloping her hips, her pale back curving away in the half-light to the fringe of hair at her neck. She was wet and warm and just so tight. She pushed back on me as I thrust into her and at the critical moment she reared up, forcing me back onto my heels as she almost squatted over my engorged cock, challenging it to impale her even deeper as I shot my load into her.

”It’s a pity we have to go through a week of being shitty to each other just so that we can have great sex” she said. But I knew she didn’t mean it. It doesn’t have to be that way. What we really need, and what we don’t get in our everyday lives, is plenty of time exclusively with each other.

We're working on that.

Grey

In the middle of last week, as predicted, we got the first snow of the winter. Not overly much, just a light dusting really, enough to make driving ‘interesting’, enough to make me glad I changed to snow tyres last weekend, enough to transform bleak empty fields and dark spinneys of leafless trees into Christmas-card scenes in the brilliant sunlight.

But the snow is all gone again. It’s warmer and damp. Everything sems grey. And our mood has been much the same. Since last week we have been in the thrall of Messrs. Bodgit and Leggit, Demolition Contractors suppliers of bespoke shopfitting solutions to the crowned heads of Europe. Having failed to turn up ten days ago to carry out a one-day job of rectifying the cock-ups they made a year ago, their man Mr Laurel appeared last Thursday morning, only half an hour late, and got stuck in. We were a little surprised as we thought there would be two men to get the job finished with as little disruption as possible to our business. We were assured that Mr Hardy would be along later.

Ollie did indeed turn up eventually, at about 4.30, did a couple of hours solid graft and then they retired to the local pizzeria.

Having stayed the night in the hotel across the road, they were ready to start again bright and early Friday morning, but by six, when we shut up shop, they were nowhere near finished. We were due to go out to a family gathering that evening, fortunately not too far away, so we left Stan and Ollie with a sheaf of telephone numbers so that when they were finished they could give us a call and one of us could nip back and lock up after them.

Some hope.

When we got back, slightly the worse for drink, at 11.30 the place still looked like a bombsite. We were knackered and ready for bed but that was clearly impossible; at least one of us was going to have to let these two clowns out when they had finished.

2.30 a.m. Two-bloody-thirty in the morning they finally decided they had had enough. Not that they were finished. They were going to stay another night in the hotel (NOT at our expense!!!) and finish off in the morning. We had to open in the morning so we had to tidy as best we could and didn’t get to bed until three. Four hours sleep until we had to do it all again.

Status as of now: It looks very good, it has to be said. Most of it works as it should although there are still some bits that don’t, and other bits that somehow they forgot to bring with them. But we’re getting there. Heather spent a goodly part of Sunday morning concocting the snottiest e-mail she could devise, short of actually falling foul of libel laws and common decency, to the owner of the firm, before spending the rest of the day putting the place to rights so that we can be back in full swing from today.

The painter came at 8 this morning to start painting the new partition wall, he won’t be able to finish the job before Wednesday, the electrician ripped all the cable ducting out last Thursday and doesn’t know when he can get back and put it all together again, but at least it all works.

But all of this has taken its toll. Heather and I tend to deal with this kind of issue very differently. I have the attitude that it will probably all work out all right in the end. On the other hand I can’t recall when I last saw Heather so angry. She was angry when they first failed to turn up and she was still angry when they were finally (at least for now) finished. Vi made what I thought was a very sensible suggestion for relieving the stress and I would readily have submitted to having the living daylights thrashed out of me if it would have helped but that’s just not her. Any enjoyment from that scenario would have been purely mine.

I felt aggrieved that she was letting it spill out over into our daily lives, letting her frustrations control everything else. There’s something in my make-up that doesn’t handle situations like this very well. Where there ought to be sympathy from me there is often only irritation and impatience. We ended up taking out our anger on each other. This and a succession of late nights was not conducive to good sex or indeed any sort of sex. Yet another twist in the vicious downwards spiral. Suddenly her not wanting sex was not to my mind so much to do with her being worn out and emotionally drained. Suddenly I imagined it to be all about me. She’s gone off me, she gets no pleasure from it, she only ever does it to please me and so on. All the old demons, the nagging insecurities popped to the surface again. Well, let’s see how she gets on without human warmth and companionship. So I turned away from her in bed, barely acknowledged her, spoke only when spoken to and then only monosyllabically (Incidentally, have you ever wondered why the word ‘monosyllabic’ should contain so many syllables?). Whole mealtimes were spent in silence.

She does nothing to reassure me. She is really angry at me now. Disappointed that after all this time I should still think that way about her. So we have a stalemate. She’s angry: Not at me but I feel the full force of it. I’m angry because she’s taking out her anger on me where I’m blameless. She’s stressed and tired and not in the mood for sex, I’m edgy and feeling rejected because of that. She says I lack sympathy and that all she needs is a cuddle, I counter that she’s pushed me away from her and made herself so unappealing to me that giving her a cuddle would be the last thing I would want to do, to which she ripostes that I never want to give her a cuddle unless it’s going to lead to full-on sex. I reply that she’s been deliberately picking fights with me to guarantee that I will keep my hands off her, and not to worry because I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near her while she is in her current mood.

Well, dear reader, you be the judge. Who was in the right, and who in the wrong? Was the whole thing avoidable or inevitable? Is it just too childish for words? Do let us know.


Epilogue: Sunday evening bought some kind of resolution. I didn’t turn my back to her in bed, she asked if she might rest her head on my shoulder. After a while she said she was going to turn around as she was getting uncomfortable and gave me a peck on the cheek as a goodnight kiss. I turned towards her.

“You call that a goodnight kiss?” I said, and slid one hand up the line of her jaw to just below her ear, the other down the length of her back. I planted my lips firmly on hers and pulled her to me and as she quivered in response I shifted the one hand to behind her head, grabbing a handful of hair at the nape of her neck and twisted it slightly as I crushed her still closer to me.

Eventually I let her go and she turned away from me, but this time in my arms. We played silly games, me rubbing my upper leg over her bottom, she rubbing the sole of her foot up and down my shin and grinding the small of her back into my groin to tease my growing erection until we finally fell asleep.

Today, as I’m writing this, Heather has just come into the office and under the pretext of seeing how loosely my trousers sit on me now I’m losing weight has shoved her hand right down the front of them. Talk about sexual harassment in the workplace. She also wants to know what time I want to go to bed tonight.

(Three hours later) This post is going to have a different ending than that I had originally envisaged. Having had to break for my regular club meeting, I was going to just round off with the fervent hope that things would go better tonight than they have done of late. Then Heather walks into the office again wearing her ‘Fuck Me’ perfume, with a ‘Fuck Me’ look in her eyes and, if I’m not mistaken, her already generous curves are positively bursting out of a tight blouse, augmented no doubt by some interesting item of lingerie. I was sorely tempted to satisfy my curiosity on the spot, but that’s like opening your present before Christmas and, as every child knows, half of the pleasure is in the unwrapping.

Nighty night.

I Feel A Meme Coming On...

Yet another one I've blagged from Vibrant Vi...

8 Passions in my life:

1: Heather of course and our children

2: Our business; Running it the best way I know how

3: Our Summerhouse-our little piece of heaven on earth

4: Railways and everything to do with them (sad but true)

5: Photography

6: Pubs, and beer in general

7: Holidaying in the UK and meeting up with my friends there.

8:Blogging


8 things to do before I die

1: See our children settled and happy.

2: Sell our business for an obcene amount of money so that I can retire and...

3: Rebuild our summerhouse just the way we want it, with a circular bed, sauna and outdoor tub.

4: Gain my Private Pilot License.

5: Buy a narrowboat and cruise the canals of England and Wales for half the year.

6: Cross Canada by train and camper van

7: Visit Australia

8. Go on a photo safari in Africa.


8 things I often say:

1: I love you...' (Ten times a day on average)

2: Mine's a pint (wishful thinking)

3:I'm surrounded by idiots.

4: Bring me back the change! (to the kids, when they sting me for bus fare etc)

5: I suppose a blow-job's out of the question? (used when Heather is pissed off at me for some reason-sometimes works)

6: AV! FOR HELVEDE!!! (shortly after stubbing toe, stabbing finger with screwdriver or knocking over drink with majestic sweep of arm)

7: Shit-for-brains! (usually directed at fellow road-users)

8: S'bloody typicuw innit? (Remember 'Stavros' the Harry Enfield character).


8 Books I read recently
(I don't often get the time or the peace and quiet to sit down and read a book. I usually have several on the go at once so it might take me months to finish a particular book)

1: Why Should You Care What Other People Think? by Richard Feynman.

2: Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman. by Richard Feynman

3: Intimate Adventures Of A London Call Girl by 'Belle De Jour'

4: Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynn Truss.

5: A Year Behind Bars (Memoirs of a pub landlord) by George East

6: Menneskeføde by Tor Nørretranders ( a treatise on human nutrition)

7: I Tried To Run A Railway by Gerard Feinnes (I have read and re-read this autobiography of a real-life Fat Controller).

8: Jude The Obscure by Thomas Hardy (If I am feeling depressed this helps me feel more depressed).

8 songs that mean something to me

(There are so many, it's difficult to pick just 8...I feel like I'm about to be stranded on a desert island. lol. )

1: Robert Palmer-Mercy Mercy Me. (Played a lot about the time Daughter was born. Reminds me of that time and it's such a cool song).

2: Robert Palmer-Know by now (Seems to sum up the story of me and Heather)

3: Andrew Gold-Never Let Her Slip Away(Seems to sum up when I first met Heather)

4: Tony Banks-You (Little-known track fron the 'Curious Feeling' album. A fantastic love song which I used to play at full blast when driving)

5: Eddie And The Hot Rods-Do Anything You Wanna Do (Just sums up the atmosphere when I first went away to uni)

6: Santana Feat. Michelle Branch-The Game Of Love. (If I could play guitar like Carlos Santana I would die happy)

7: Metallica-Enter Sandman (Son's favourite piece to play. He practices this for hours)

8: Bobby Goldsboro-Summer-The First Time. (The dream scenario of every randy seventeen year-old)


8 qualities I look for in a friend

1: Loyalty

2: Same wierd sense of humour

3: A dirty mind

4: A love of drink (Heather impressed me from the first time we met. I offered to buy her a drink, she asked for a pint, necked it down in one then threw the glass to the floor and stamped on it.)

5: Must laugh at my jokes (Though paradoxically my oldest and best friend, George, refuses to ever laugh at my jokes as a matter of principle. Thus it is a real sense of acheivement if I can get him to crack up despite himself)

6: Tolerance (Any friend of mine is going to need it!)

7: Must respect my space.

8: Intelligence (That sounds awfully arrogant I know, but if you can't hold an intelligent conversation with someone then the friendship is probably a non-starter.)


8 people who I'm passing this on to

(Well, I'm usually last to pick up on these things so everybody has probably done it already. Feel free to pick it up if you haven't)

Teenagers!

Daughter was home for the weekend again, not that we saw a lot of her. She was going to a school party on Saturday night, so couldn’t stay up at school. That sounds a bit paradoxical so I’d better explain: These parties are organised by the students themselves and take place several times per term in various village halls across the area. They are quite unofficial and the school itself has nothing to do with them, althought they are well organised and there are always parents around. The school has strict rules about alcohol so that even turning up at school smelling of drink would lead to expulsion so on party weekends everybody leaves school. She spent most of the afternoon getting ready and, at about seven she stuck her head around the door to the lounge:

“I’m just going down to the convenience store”.

“What for?” I asked.

“To get some BOOZE for the party, ‘cos I’m sixteen now, and I can”. Over here it is legal to buy alcohol in shops from the age of 16.



Meanwhile, Son pulled one of those numbers that teenagers do sometimes. When Heather phoned over to his flat to let him know that tea would be ready in 5 minutes he informed us that there would be one more joining us for the meal; namely M2, who had been there since the previous night. Heather thought it would not be unreasonable for us to be told if we have guests in the house, if only to plan the catering. Son thought differently. Teenagers, what do you do with them? I thought the whole M1/M2 thing was resolving itself. He has been going out with M1 for over 2 years. They plan to go to the same university next year (provided he pulls his ****** finger out and actually does some work) and have got a flat together as of next summer. He said that he was quietly dropping M2 because in his opinion she was getting too clingy and possessive. It’s difficult to know what to think, we try not to get involved. We like them both, the slightly scary thing about M2 is that she is barely older than our own daughter. She’s in the first year at college where son is third year. I suppose it confers some sort of status among your peers is you can snag yourself a senior.

Sunday I spent a happy hour or so putting the snow tyres on the car. It has suddenly turned cold and they are threatening snow for later in the week. Then on Sunday evening I had to drive an hour-long mystery tour round the surrounding countryside, dropping off Daughter back at school and Son at M1's house where he was going to spend the night. They were apparently planning some Spanish revision together. It’s the first time I’ve heard it called that.



Heather asked Daughter after the party whether she had got off with anybody.

“No, I’m in love with A…”

Now A… is a lad she met at scout camp, three years ago. They have kept in touch by text ever since and have met up at subsequent camps. The last time was at half term, a few weeks ago and suddenly it has become a lot more serious. On Sunday afternoon Daughter sidled up to me in the office with that look on her face that said she wanted something.

“Dad, can you go on the net for me?”

“Of course, what for?”

“Can you look up times of trains to Albertslund….and can you book me a ticket?”

Now Albertslund is at the other end of the country. Distance-wise it is as if we lived in, for example, Lowestoft and she had suddenly announced she was dating someone in Wimbledon.

“I suppose you want me to pay for it on my credit card? You want me to part with sixty quid of my hard-earned cash just so that you can go and spend the weekend with your boyfriend? What are you going to be getting up to anyway?”

“DAD! I’m sixteen! Anyway, his parents are going to be there” .

I felt like saying that that had never stopped me, or her mother, but thought better of it.

“I don’t care what you say, I’m GOING to see A…” She set her jaw with a stubborn expression.

“What is it they call that type of ticket. Is it an Awayday.... or a Haveitawayday?”.

She thumped me on the arm. I made the booking.

“What do you do?” I asked her.

“I love you, Daddy” she smiled, and gave me a hug.


Later, after both kids had been despatched, Heather and I were lying beside each other, drawing lazy circles on each others' naked bodies with our fingertips. We talked about Daughter and her planned visit and my concerns for her. Heather was calm about the whole thing, but then she's has more experience in being a teenage girl than I have. She told me about the various things she used to get up to at that age, and before. The age of consent in this country is 15, so I suppose Daughter's done well to last this long. (It's not everyone that does and I'll just leave it at that!).


So there it is. My daughter is planning to sleep over with a boy she’s madly in love with and there seems a reasonable chance that she will not return in the same state as that she was in when she left. I know that Son has been at it with other people’s daughters for a while now, but this is different…She’s my little girl!

I suppose I just hope she doesn’t get hurt, and for God’s sake uses protection!

Room At The Inn...But Nowhere Else

The city of Odense is the third largest in the country. It boasts both the birthplace and the childhood home of Hans Christian Andersen, both now preserved, and attracts thousands of tourists every year. You would think, therefore, that there would be no problem booking a hotel room for one night in November, when we needed to go there on a course.

Not a chance.

The Organisation of Local Authorities was holding its annual meeting in Odense on exactly the day we were to be there. All hotel rooms in the city were booked out months in advance. I had visions of Heather and I making love while enjoying the view of the city by night from the fifteenth floor of some city hotel, a bit like this, but instead we had to settle for a wayside inn, about 40 minutes drive from the city centre. Don’t get me wrong, it was certainly a pleasant enough place with a warm welcome and a comfortable room but I just felt like a bit of big city sophistication for a change. Still, a hotel room is a hotel room and they were created for one purpose only…

It was a tough drive down there in torrential rain. Because we thought we probably wouldn’t make it to the inn before the kitchen closed, we ate at a motorway services. It was 9.30 before we arrived and we took a quiet drink in the bar before returning to our room. The bed was wide and comfortable. With a widescreen LCD TV hanging on the wall opposite, but SEVEN QUID to watch the porno channel? No thanks, we’ll make our own.

At this point I would like to put in a little aside about packing: We were both agreed that we should travel as light as possible. However, opinions differed as to what constitutes ‘light’. For me it was:
Spare socks
Spare underpants
Spare shirt
N-joy
Lube
FINISHED-in under five minutes!

For Heather it was:
Spare Bra
Reserve spare bra
Spare panties
Reserve spare panties
Spare blouse
Reserve spare blouse
Spare trousers
Spare shoes
Spare cardigan
Shawl
Various hair-care products (She forgot the hairdryer)
Spare necklace

Total time: 30 minutes (a new record)

This is without reckoning with the toilet bag, which contains both our essentials, but is of course 90% filled up with hers.

I asked her jokingly if she didn’t want another colour specs to go with her other outfit. I should know you never joke about things like that. Another few minutes were spent hunting them down and putting them in the already closed suitcase.

Back to the plot: We wasted no time getting naked once back in the room, but before leaping on the bed I went into the bathroom, ran a basin of hot water and put the njoy in it to warm up. As I snuggled up beside Heather and cupped her beautiful face she put a gentle finger to my mouth.

“You’ll have to be very careful if you want to kiss me, my lip is still very sore and swollen” She warned; a mango-related accident a few days previously had caused her to bite the inside of her lower lip very badly.

“Good job you’ve got another set of lips I can kiss then” I said with a smile, and turned around in the bed.

She hoisted her legs up eagerly and I feasted on her, teasing her labia free with my tongue and then sucking the fleshy folds in between my lips and chewing on them with lip-shielded teeth. As her cunt began to glisten with fresh juices I dipped the tip of my tongue into her fragrant wetness, dragging it up to coat her emerging clit.

I broke the rhythm for long enough to retrieve the njoy, now warmed through. I fed it gently into her and let it hang so that its own weight cantilevered the ball on the end into her g-spot while my tongue lavished attention on her clit. She shivered and tensed, starting to close her legs. I knelt up and she rested her ankles on my shoulders as I massaged her clit with the tip of my thumb until she came, thrashing her head from side to side on the pillow.

I lay on top of her for a moment, warming her. The njoy was still in place so I thought it might be fun to try a little bit of DP. My cock slid in without difficulty alongside that polished steel but I found that with deeper thrusting, my foreskin dragged on the ball at the end, and quickly began to get sore, so that I would not recommend although Heather seemed to enjoy the feeling of fullness. I drew the njoy out, reversed it, lubed it and popped it, knobble by knobble into her bottom instead. This was much more satisfactory and I could feel the bumps as I drove into her, and the sensation of my balls bumping up against the free end. I came very quickly and, on pulling out, was treated to the sight of my semen trickling out of her and coating the brightly polished njoy.

The metal seemed burning hot as I drew it out and rinsed it. I packed it away, turned out the lights and we fell asleep touching each other as always, in that big comfortable bed in a strange room, with the dull rumble of motorway traffic as a lullaby.







The njoy-still warm. A few moments previously it was jutting out of Heather's bum with my semen dribbling over it. You're just going to have to imagine that!

150 Things-Update

Update on the '150 things' thing:

Question 129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about?


Actually yes, now I come to think of it: There was this girl once who I was very keen on. We had some good times together but eventually she told me she couldn't see any future in the two of us. I managed to convince her to spend just one more night together.


That was 30 years ago and we're still together.

Still Steaming

I am still steaming now 30 hours later, and will carry on for at least another week until they have hopefully/finally finished the job. His lordship, the not so fat controller anymore, is not happy about this, but then he is only a bloke, and the shop-fitters are blokes all of them, not a single female shop-fitter among them so far, perhaps that’s the problem.

Thought of a good joke though:

What’s the difference between a shop-fitter and a bloke who promises not to come in your mouth?
You’re right: the bloke always comes straight away!

This is not an attempt to get at the FC at all, he has always been very trustworthy in that department, until someone wrote about pineapple juice that is. I will forever after curse that blogger, sorry I can’t off hand remember who it was.

Needless to say, that the FC doesn’t look upon that bit of info in the same way as I do.

Bastards!

Exactly a year ago we had our house extensively rebuilt and effectively doubled the area taken up by our business. We hired a shopfitting firm to draw up some plans and very fine they looked , too. We were assured that we could leave the whole thing to them, they would contact and co-ordinate with local builders, electricians, air-conditioning engineers etc.

They didn't.

We signed the contracts and they promptly forgot about us. Thus it was that we (and it was mostly Heather) who had to chase up and organise all these people at the last minute. Thus it was that, for example, the ceiling-mounted air conditioning was installed after the ceiling and the carpets were put in.

We opened on time. It was a miracle but we made it. It was a harrowing experience and one which we would not willingly go through again, but on opening day it all seemed worthwhile. It looked fantastic, everybody complimented us on the transformation. Only one problem: It wasn’t as we specified. Things were missing, things didn’t work or were botched. But at the time it was ’take it or leave it’.

After months of fruitless telephone calls to the consultant who was in charge of the whole job to come and get it sorted out, the owner of the shopfitting company noticed that he hadn’t been paid in full for the work and when we politely explained that the money was sitting in our bank just waiting to be paid the moment the work was satisfactorily completed, he hit the roof. Said consultant was given the heave-ho quicker than you can say ’complete and utter wanker’.

The owner himself came down and had a site meeting with us, had a look at the problems, drew up a plan of remedial work required, along with othe niggling things which experience of actually working in the place had taught us would be nice to have. He said he was a bit busy at the moment as we were not the only place his ex-employee had fucked around with and he was on a nationwide tour, clearing up after him, but he would get back to us with dates and so forth within a week or so.

He didn’t

All through the summer we have been trying to pin them down. It’s not just a matter of a couple of workmen turning up one day and pottering about. There is some fairly major remedial work involving partition walls to be done, so we effectively have to almost close for a day while they do it, and as some of our clients are seen on an appointment basis, it’s a bit important to have a firm date, especially as we can have appointments booked 2-3 weeks in advance.

Six weeks or so ago, after much phoning and pestering we finally got a date. HOORAY! They would come and put it all right on Thursday 8th November 2007

They didnt.

Heather phoned them last night just to find out what time they would be starting work this morning and the reply was ”Oh, we’re not coming. Some of the cabinets aren’t ready.”

”And you didn’t think to let me know? Even yesterday would have been better than finding out now. I’ve had two of my staff spend half a day clearing out in the end of the shop where you need to work and I cancelled my appointments for today. I’ve lost a day’s income for nothing and I still have to do it all over again when you actually do come”.

”Well, I’ve been out of the office all week. I’ve only just got back”.

Isn’t there anyone else there who could have picked up the phone to let us know? We’ve had this arranged for the last six weeks. If I hadn’t rung you now I would have been waiting around tommorow morning, wondering why you hadn’t arrived”.

Rarely have I seen her so incensed. She was incandescent and quivering with rage. I tend to be a little more phlegmatic and practical when it comes to things like this but it is just a shitload of extra work and extra stress which we don’t need, plus the loss of income for a day wasted, plus we lose the day off together that we had reserved next week, Heather and me, which is when they now say they can come. Heather is in a terrible state, goodness knows what she'll be like when I get home, or how I'm going to be able to cheer her up. There has been a dark sense of gloom and of grim crisis management today as the staff have tried to contact clients and change around appointments just so that we can accommodate

THESE

USELESS

FUCKING

WANKERS

BASTARDS

BASTARDS

BASTARDS

BASTARDS

BASTARDS
BASTARDS

Hold Very Tight Please

Memorable fucks are clearly just like London buses. You wait and wait with growing frustration and then suddenly three come along at once. That and having been away from my pc for a day or so means that, in trying to keep the whole thing in chronological order, the most recent happenings will be delayed a day or so. Bear with me…

Friday night: I’d managed to convince myself that I was feeling much better. We weren’t especially early to bed and were both tired, but I was feeling horny as hell after a week of doing without. Heather lay with her back to me, but pressing up to me, allowing herself to be enfolded in my arms. I teased her relentlessly.

“It’s perfectly ok if you just want a cuddle” I teased “I undertand if you don’t want to fuck a sick guy”

She protested, but there was a grain of truth in it. Me off work for a couple of days is no great loss. Heather off would be a disaster.

I carried on teasing until she finally relented and reached behind her to grab my cock, if only to shut me up. I groaned with pleasure at the feel of her fingers curling around me and went more determinedly for her breasts and her crotch with my wandering hands. She arched her back as I ploughed a finger into her cleft, seeking out her clit, and this brought her cheek into kissing range as I pulled her closer to me.

“Well you’re going to have to do it quietly” she whispered. Daughter was home for the weekend.

I released her from my clutches and let her roll onto her back. Reaching out to the bedside table and the bottle of ID lube ‘Sensations’, I squeezed a blob out onto my fingertip and massaged it into her clit. The effect was immediate and she gave a satisfied “mmmm” as the tingling, warming feeling spread out between her legs.

“Have you ever tried what it feels like on the head of your cock?” she asked suddenly,

“No, but I’m willing to try it”

Without further ceremony she grabbed the bottle, dispensed a generous squodge of lube into her hand and began rolling her cupped palm over the very tip of my cock. The other hand, similarly lubed, was stroking up and down my shaft . It felt divine, I don’t recall ever having a lubed handjob before but I have no idea why not.

Her cunt was by now wet and wide open. I hooked a couple of fingers inside and began to grind my palm into her mons. She shuddered and moaned her appreciation. I started to slide a gentle finger across her perineum and tapped and pressed at the little rosebud of her arsehole, without pushing it in. Heather was unsure, she’d not been fit for anal play for a while and whispered that she didn’t think she would be able to take anything up there. I pulled the finger away again and concentrated on her luscious cunt instead.

After a while the lure of her wetness was too much to resist and I just had to get inside her. I pulled away from her busy, skilful fingers, spread her legs and helped myself to her, sliding into her deep
and slow. I was determined to take my time over this; that it shouldn’t be just about the orgasm, so I changed position again and again, enjoying each one before moving on to the next. When we finally reached ‘doggy’ and her puckered little arse was pushed out on display I could resist no more.

“I simply have to have your arse” I said and, not hearing any violent protests, I reached for the lube (The Ann Summers ‘Slide & Ride’, not the hot stuff!) and wiggled a thoroughly prepared finger up inside her. So far, so good. A generous lubing of both her and me and I presented the tip of my cock at her bum. Just a tiny push and it plopped in first time; suddenly I was up to my balls, deep inside that virgin-tight but oh-so silky smooth hole. At first I squatted behind her, reaching over to grab the head of the bed, riding her hard, then I reverted to a more conventional doggy style before sinking back on my heels, drawing her with me. Now I was kneeling up with her virtually squatting over me and me still deep up inside her. I reached round her middle and down between her parted legs. Her labia were plump, distended, and I was able to reach round and part them, touching her clit with my fingertip. Now this is something I wouldn’t have been able to do just a few months ago, but we have both lost weight since then.

The suddenness of her orgasm took us both by surprise. I laid a finger across her open mouth to stifle her cries and she bit down on it. Then, as her panting gasps took on a more desperate edge I realised that she had taken just as much anal as she could manage for one night and I pulled out gently.

Rolling her over, I knelt so that the tip of my cock was at the very entrance to her glistening cavern and wanked myself while dipping into her wetness. At the very last I drove deep into her and threw myself on top of her, scooping her head, and the pillow on which it was resting, in my arms and crushing it into my neck.

“There’s another advantage to your losing weight” she murmered, as we lay together in the stillness after that fury.

“What?”

“You don’t snore any more. You used to snore something chronic”.

“Nonsense, I’ve never heard myself snoring”..

I held her closer and soon her breathing grew heavier and more regular. I nuzzled her behind the ear and whispered:

“I love you. Sweet dreams”.

150 Things

I pinched this meme from Vi, who pinched it from......etc....etc..Feel free to pinch again

It’s called “150 Things”. The ones in green are the ones I have actually done or experienced.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink (On my 50th birthday)

02. Swam with wild dolphins

03. Climbed a mountain Snowdon and Cader Idris in Wales

04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive

05. Been inside the Great Pyramid

06. Held a tarantula

07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone (It's on my 'to do' list)

08. Said “I love you” and meant it Oh yes! Every night just before she goes to sleep

09. Hugged a tree (Why???)

10. Bungee jumped

11. Visited Paris

12. Watched a lightning storm at sea From our sumerhouse, many times

13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise Ditto

14. Seen the Northern Lights Ditto

15. Gone to a huge sports game England vs, the All-Blacks at Twickenham

16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa

17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables

18. Touched an iceberg

19. Slept under the stars At the summerhouse-se above

20. Changed a baby’s diaper More times than I care to remember

21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon Over Windermere for our 10th wedding anniversary-Brilliant!

22. Watched a meteor shower Leonids, Perseids, Quadrantids, you name 'em

23. Gotten drunk on champagne Who hasn't?

24. Given more than you can afford to charity

25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope Father is an astrophysicist-what can I say?

26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment. The silence of a university exam

27. Had a food fight Well the food at uni hall of residence was inedible-what else could you do with it?

28. Bet on a winning horse And came home from an evening at Wimbledon Dogs with a profit

29. Asked out a stranger (They don't come stranger than my wife BOOM!BOOM!)

30. Had a snowball fight Oh yes, the kids demand it

31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can Daughter and I used to have a little ritual. At 6pm on friday evening we would lock the door to our business and yell "AND STAY OUT, YOU BASTARDS!!!!!" at the tops of our voices. A little stress relief, if you like.

32. Held a lamb

33. Seen a total eclipse (See above)

34. Ridden a roller coaster

35. Hit a home run

36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking

37. Adopted an accent for an entire day

38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment

39. Had two hard drives for your computer Why stop at just 2?

40. Visited all 50 states (Of the USA I presume? No, not even one)

41. Taken care of someone who was drunk If draping him over the toilet bowl so he didn't throw up on the floor counts as 'taking care'

42. Had/Have amazing friends And some of them you will find in the column on the right

43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country

44. Watched whales

45. Stolen a sign

46. Backpacked in Europe

47. Taken a road-trip Uk-Denmark-Sweden-Denmark-UK two weeks in an MG Midget and we didn't put the hood up once!

48. Gone rock climbing Harrison's Rocks, Tryfan Slab (See here), Holyhead Mountain

49. Midnight walk on the beach Summerhouses are wonderful things!

50. Gone sky diving. (You'd never get me to leave a perfectly serviceable aircraft unless the altimeter reading was zero!)

51. Visited Ireland

52. Been heartbroken longer than you were actually in love

53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them

54. Visited Japan

55. Milked a cow

56. Alphabetized your CDs

57. Pretended to be a superhero This looks like a job for CUSTARD MAN!!!!!

58. Sung karaoke

59. Lounged around in bed all day

60. Played touch football

61. Gone scuba diving

62. Kissed in the rain and everywhere else imaginable

63. Played in the mud

64. Played in the rain

65. Gone to a drive-in theater

66. Visited the Great Wall of China

67. Started a business Still going strong!

68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken

69. Toured ancient sites Viking sites in Jutland

70. Taken a martial arts class Judo

71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight

72. Gotten married

73. Been in a movie

74. Crashed a party

75. Gotten divorced

76. Gone without food for 5 days I was having a MEGA sulk

77. Made cookies from scratch (I thought you made them from cookie dough-lol)

78. Won first prize in a costume contest Made the costume, but wasn't the one wearing it

79. Ridden a gondola in Venice

80. Gotten a tattoo

81. Rafted the snake river

82. Been on television news programs as an “expert”

83. Gotten flowers for no reason

84. Performed on stage

85. Been to Las Vegas

86. Recorded music

87. Eaten shark

88. Kissed on the first date

89. Gone to Thailand

90. Bought a house

91. Been in a combat zone (Only if you count Belfast in 1991)

92. Buried one/both of your parents

93. Been on a cruise ship

94. Spoken more than one language fluently Ja, det har jeg!

95. Performed in a Rocky Horror Picture Show

96. Raised children Not alone, fortunately

97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour

98. Passed out cold Bad fall at judo, national championships at Crystal palace

99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country

100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over Try 'Another country'

101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge

102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking

103. Had plastic surgery

104. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived

105. Wrote articles for a large publication

106. Lost over 100 pounds

107. Held someone while they were having a flashback

108. Piloted an airplane

110. Broken someone’s heart (Don't think so. Hope not)

109. Touched a stingray

111. Helped an animal give birth

112. Won money on a TV game show

113. Broken a bone Only a little finger

114. Gone on an African photo safari (Definitely on my 'to do' list)

115. Had a facial part pierced other than your ear (I do the piercing!)

116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol Shotgun (clay shooting), SA80 assault rifle

117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild

118. Ridden a horse

119. Had major surgery

120. Had a snake as a pet (Son has a corn snake)

121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon

122. Slept 30 hours in a 48 hour time frame-

123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states 9-0 to the foreign countries

124. Visited all 7 continents

125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days

126. Eaten kangaroo meat

127. Eaten sushi

128. Had your picture in the newspaper

129. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about Convinced Heather to stay with me when she decided it was best if we broke up.

130. Gone back to school

131. Parasailed

132. Touched a cockroach

133. Eaten fried green tomatoes

134. Read “The Iliad”

135. Selected one “important” author who you missed in school, and read (I WILL read Thomas Hardy one day)

136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating

137. Skipped all your school reunions

138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language

139. Been elected to public office

140. Written your own computer language

141. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream

142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care

143. Built your own PC from parts

144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you

145. Had a booth at a street fair

146. Dyed your hair

147. Been a DJ

148. Shaved your head

149. Caused a car accident

150. Saved someone’s life

'Snot Funny

It’s the same every time. When the ’flu hits me it goes straight for the balance. About 10 days ago I woke up early to use the bathroom, hauled myself out of bed and suddenly had to hang onto the bed end to stop myself collapsing in a heap of rubbery limbs. I staggered down the corridor to the bathroom, swaying and rolling like a drunken sailor, eventually made it back to bed and stayed there. Fortunately we’re not desperately busy at the moment, they could cope in the business without me. By day three I began to feel like a fraud. I had none of the other symptoms, just dizziness and nausea. I came back to work, but had to creep back upstairs before the day was finished. I was just completely knackered!

Last Thursday night I was had just about had enough of the symptoms dragging on and on. I felt like death warmed up but there were no outward signs that I was ill at all. I said to Heather that I would much rather have the cough and the runny nose and all the other crap, and just get it over with. I began to wonder whether these symptoms of dizziness were all in the mind and made up my mind to ignore them. By this time I was horny as hell but hadn’t been getting any . After all, who wants to fuck a sick guy?

Friday morning I did actually feel considerably better. By the evening I declared myself to be back on top form and we celebrated by having the most amazing sex (More about this in a later post). I ignored the little tickle in the back of my throat.

Saturday morning. I was still glowing from the previous night.

“Why don’t we just not bother to open today?” I said to Heather as she stood, naked and freshly showered, fixing her hair in front of the mirror on the landing. I ran my hand down the curve of her back, gave ‘The Girls’ their good morning kiss and did some rearranging in the trouser department to stifle my growing erection. I could quite happily have spent the morning romping with her on the bed instead. But there was still that worrying tickle in the throat, despite the best efforts of Strepsils, chlorhexidine gargle and benzocaine lozenges. What with all that plus Multivitamins, extra vitamin C, Zinc and Propolis tablets I was beginning to rattle when I walked.

About 2 hours later I was repairing a watch: With a 0.8mm screwdriver in one hand and a pair of fine tweezers in the other (we call them ‘grain of sand’ tweezers over here because they are fine enough to get hold of a single grain of sand) holding a tiny screw, I was working at about 2 inches distance from the watch, with the help of a jewellers eyeglass and concentrating to the utmost when…

My nose began to run. I was stuck with my hands full in the middle of a delicate operation. I just had to press on regardless and just let it drip onto the bench.

And from there, gentle reader, it has just got from bad to worse. Nose streaming, eyes streaming, sinuses stuffed to bursting point and a chesty cough. Head aches, limbs ache, neck aches, balls, for some unaccountable reason, ache. No sex last night, no prospect of it tonight.. Even if it had been on offer I don’t think I could manage it. I just want to get this over with.

And what I said about trading the dizzy symptoms for the cold symptoms? I take it all back.


Today’s useless fact: The word for snot in this country is ‘snot’.

Cool

A comment from Vi in the last post asserted that we were cool parents. Well, there are worse things to be and it made me chuckle a little as it reminded me of one of the few occasions when my own father exhibited a little spark of coolness.

Relations between me and my father were always a little awkward when I was living at home. No direct unpleasantness, but there was always some sort of distance between us. It was probably as much my fault as his; we’re too much alike. We have never been really close. We were a fairly conventional churchgoing family, visits from my then girlfriend were always with my mother in the background, and always in the lounge and never up in my room. The same when I visited her at home. We did a lot of making out in the car, as you can imagine, although with us both being good well brought up kids from good churchgoing families, in a peer group with similar backgrounds, it never developed into more than a kiss and cuddle and a grope under the jumper…in all the five years I was going out with her. I remember the scandal at the church youth club when one of the girls, who was very well developed for her fifteen years and more forward than most, took one of the lads behind the stage in the church hall and let him take her bra off. I was warned in no uncertain terms by my mother to steer clear of that particular girl because she might get me into trouble (SHE might get ME into trouble???!!!)

University changed all that, and for most of that first year Heather and I were sleeping together, despite the fact that we each had a room in hall of residence. The second year was going to be more problematic because we were expected to find digs for ourselves and accommodation in London has always been a problem. The situation was not made easier with the university accommodation officer being a militant trotskyist whose contribution to bringing about The Revolution consisted of attempting to foment unrest among the student body by failing to find accommodation for any of them. So we were left to traipse around town with outdated lists of possible addresses and much-thumbed copies of the ’Ham and High’ (we were definitely North London types). Eventually we managed to secure a double bedroom in a family home in Hampstead Garden Suburb. There was only one hurdle left to tackle; how to break it to my parents that we intended to share that bedroom.

I had a summer job in south west London that year and was waiting for a Green Line bus home at Hampton Court one afternoon. By the merest co-incidence my father turned up at the same bus stop. I think he’d been to the flower show or something but in any case, the odds against us meeting there were vanishingly small. Normally at home we could spend a whole evening under the same roof without exchanging so much as a word but here, at this bus stop, we started talking. He asked me how it was going with the search for digs. I answered with a few mumbled platitudes about how difficult it was to find somewhere and his reply struck me like a bolt out of the blue.

”Well, you and Heather are just going to have to find somewhere to share”.

I could have hugged him (almost!) With one sentence had had swept away the problem that had been bugging me for days. Sure, the family had met Heather several times, and liked her. But we had never told them how serious we were about each other. Now I had as good as got a paternal blessing for us to ’live in sin’.

On the other hand, my father was himself, at the time, admissions tutor for a major university department. He knew the score. My estimation of him went up from that day onward.


Fast forward to 2007, and Son has been out to the local university these last 3 days on a sort of introduction course. He is dead set on going there next year and he has just heard that he and his original gf (M1) have got a flat from the beginning of the next academic year. How times have changed!


By the way, I've just put up another post on my other blog...the one where I give flight to my fantasies. I printed it out and gave it to her the other night and it is now under her pillow.