Friday November 22nd.
Mandy was at my door again!
Oh dear, you don’t suppose I am the person on whom she has the crush?
No, of course I’m not. She has used the masculine personal pronoun to describe
them all the time; unless it is a cunning plan.
I guess it could be worse. I gave her my mobile number but she hasn’t
used it; getting calls from her all the time wouldn’t be good.
We [Laura and I] went to the Winter Gardens today. Met up with Kaybers
there, had a goss and giggle and a coffee and sandwich – OK, I had tea. She
confessed she had been a bit worried about Jan’s plan to go and live in Norway.
It turns out he was just trying to live out a fantasy. Her glow from the other
night had turned in to a blotchy redness this lunchtime. I pointed this out and
she said she was all over the place with the pregnancy, sometimes she felt on
top of the world and at others like complete shite. She’s been constipated, had
chronic diarrhoea, and had terrible headaches and feelings of euphoria; hot flushes, cold sweats, the works! [Sodding hell, her description has put another nail in to the coffin of
motherhood!]
Laura thought the whole thing sounded quite normal and said that her
sisters went through similar things during their pregnancies but the baby at
the end was worth all the trouble. Is it though? Surely, I will have hassle for
the rest of my life if I ever have one? I don’t even know why I am dwelling on
this topic, it is not likely to be on my [our] agenda any time soon is it? Why
hasn’t my sister told me all this about her three? Is it an unwritten
conspiracy? Am I being paranoid?
The only thing Suze told me was that the actual process of labour was
like trying to expel a bowling ball through your vagina! She also said she’d
told Pete he was never having sex with her again – after Jill was born! Well,
it can’t have been so terrible, as she went on to have Annabelle and Jeff. I
guess being surrounded, suddenly, by pregnant friends and family has made me
think about it a little more.
After the Winter Gardens we strolled back up through town to Uni again
and witnessed a bus hit a white van on West Street. I don’t know who was at
fault but both vehicles came to rest in the middle of the road, the two drivers
almost sat in each other’s laps. It was a minor tonk really but someone had
obviously called an ambulance and we soon heard sirens, the ambulance station
is on a street parallel to West Street.
This caused quite a lot of confusion and congestion as the two vehicles
were now blocking the tram lanes as well as the road! We weren’t sure whether
or not to hang around, but as there were loads of people on West Street, many
still at the bus stop waiting for a different bus, I assumed they would have
enough witnesses to call on and we continued on our way. The whole of the
street had become one giant car park so quickly. Some bright spark had the
bright idea to do a U-turn and had back up the hill, pretty soon everyone else
was doing the same. It was quite a surreal sight watching car after car dive
down the hill, see the congestion and then turn smartly round to go back again.
Back at Uni, Sarah – one of the office staff - came in quite a while
after me and she’d actually been a passenger on the bus. The impact was so
slight she hadn’t even realised there had been a collision. There was a sudden
jolt, apparently, and the bus stopped. She thought it was nothing more than the
driver hitting his brakes too hard. They only realised something wasn’t right
when the bus just stayed there. When they trooped off, they were surprised to
see how much of the van was embedded into the front of the bus!
Laura was working again tonight, and she drove herself down, so I
settled down to some more embroidery. I think I may need to go to see Nicky
Heal again in Cockermouth. My eyes are finding it hard to see some of the holes
in the fabric I am using. It is plain weave linen and they are quite tiny, I
suppose, but even with the bright working lamp on I found it a strain. Thinking
about it, I can’t remember the last time I went to have my eyes tested. The
optician I use is one up near Dad’s village. We have always used them, mainly
because we were at the holiday home a lot during school holidays it made sense
to use the local services.
My current specs come from Heals, in fact every single pair, except one
from Vision Express in Norwich have come from there. Playing volleyball in your
specs can have unexpected consequences! I caught the ball square in the face,
at school, and my lovely invisible framed, lightweight pair snapped in three
places!
Being under sixteen meant they were free but Mum was livid with me for
wearing them to play sport in! She was fine when I wore them for cricket and
hockey but not volleyball. Go figure? Mums can be irrational. Oh no! I am back
to pregnancy again!
Saturday 23rd November.
Dog walked and swam as usual.
Did the Times Jumbo Crossword in 40 minutes! Rah rah rah. Yes, it was
raining. By day light I could see the holes in my linen much clearer. Was last
night’s poor perception because of tiredness? I spent the whole morning after
the Crossword sitting in the lounge working on the tree of life. The Lollster
brought her work down from the study and sat in the lounge with me, in the
recliner, busy with her current assignment; the last one of the term. We must
have looked like a stereotypical picture of domestic harmony to anyone who
happened to look through our window. Do you know, in the four hours from
finishing the crossword to lunch time [1.30pm] we drank eight cups of tea each?
Eight! No wonder by about 12.30 we were forming a relay procession to the loo!
We drove over to Mum’s after lunch and rendez-voused with the Big
Brother, wife and sprogs there too. The plan was a stroll across the moors if
it stayed fine and then tea at Mum’s. It stayed fine long enough to get out
onto Curbar Edge just before it started to rain again. We dropped down into
Baslow instead and went shopping in the touristy shops, which were surprisingly
full. After about an hour the sky brightened and we went back to Curbar Edge
and strolled properly this time, walking along to the momument that overlooks
Chatsworth and back. You could tell Callie was confused as she walked placidly
by my side for ages after we had left the two cars.
I gave Angela and Peter the ball wanger and they spent a while getting
Callie to retrieve her ball. They would have done if for the whole walk had
Peter not managed to wang the ball over the edge and, look as we might, we
couldn’t find the damned thing. It did give us a good opportunity to scramble
about on the rocks along that bit of the edge. Millstone grit usually
gives you pretty good traction for walking and climbing, trust Phil to find the
only slippery bit of millstone grit on the edge!
It was very funny to watch. He was standing up on the wet slab of rock
and in the next instant he was sitting down. He just dropped right onto his
bum! It looked so funny, a bit like a slapstick comedian, from the old silent
movie days. It must have hurt like hell! We [I am sorry to say] all hooted.
Angela had a fit of the giggles which infected us all, except Phil. The smiled
but didn’t join the hysteria. Jane and I went across and helped him up. He
looked a bit like his dignity was the main thing that had been injured but as
we came back from the monument, he was walking far more gingerly than he had
been. Jane drove their car back to Mum’s and for the rest of the afternoon and
evening he grimaced every time he shifted in his seat.
They set off back to Leeds after Dr Who and Jane drove again!
Maybe he has hurt himself more than we all thought? I hope not. He can
be a boring old fart and a pompous ass, and all sorts of things like that but
he is my brother and I love him really. I wouldn’t want him to be really hurt.
Mum brought out some lovely Gewurtztraminer after they had left and we
drank the bottle full between us. She then found a delicious Dolcetta / Syrah and
we had that too. By about 10.30 we were laughing our heads off at Phil’s fall.
[Not a good sign.] We giggled at all sorts of trivia too, which we took as a sign
that we’d better stay the night.
I walked Callie in what may only be described as a devil may care
attitude brought on by the alcohol as I walked down the middle of the road in
the village oblivious to the possibility of there being any traffic. Luckily
there wasn’t, as I wasn’t sure I would have been in complete control of Callie
if I had to get us out of the road quickly. Back at Mum’s they had both gone to
bed and Mum had locked the back door! I had to ring the doorbell to get back
in. Mum’s excuse? She thought Laura was me! Drink, eh?
Sunday 24th November.
Callie nudged my ear in the night [3.45am to be precise]. I told her to
get back on her bean seat. She did, bless her, but in moments she was back
nudging my ear again. To my shame I just told her more firmly to get back on
her bean seat and being the good dog she is, she did. Moments later she was
back again! This time I switched the bedside light on and could see and hear
she was licking her chops like she does when she’s just eaten. She then did the
rictus grin that she does and I knew I had seconds to act.
Luckily I had grabbed Mum’s Guardian when she let me back in last night.
I snagged it from the kitchen table for some unknown reason and took it with me
up to bed. Maybe I was planning on doing the Crossword in my sleep? Who knows?
Anyway I grabbed the paper and spread it out in front of rictus dog. Sure
enough, as soon as the paper was on the floor she began the doggy belly dance
that precedes the vomit. She chucked slap bang in the middle of the paper a mix
of dog food, grass and bile. I folded up the top four sheets of the paper and
padded over to the window to drop them out of it. As I did so she started the
belly dance again and landed a second batch of stomach contents on to the
Guardian. I had a near hysterical moment of giggles as I thought “Shame it
isn’t the Daily Mail!” I folded the second batch of canine vomit and that
joined the first through the window.
I then rushed the pup down stairs and out of the kitchen door onto the
garden. There she wandered about Mum’s bit of lawn for a while. She set off all
the security lights on the back. She sniffed at the bushes along the back wall.
She had a wee and came back in to have her paws wiped. By the time I had closed
and locked the back door and hung the dog towel on the radiator to dry she was
back upstairs on her bean seat again, in the bedroom. I pulled a cushion from
the armchair, Mum had it put in here ages ago while Richard was still alive.
It brings back memories, does that chair and cushion. When Richard came
to stay the first time, we discovered that if I sprawled in it, with my
buttocks resting at the very front edge and Richard kneeled down, his penis and
my vagina were at a perfect height for each other. A simple rocking motion on
his part meant we could bonk for ages without expending vast amounts of energy.
He could use his thumb or fingers or both to rub my clitoris and we could have
amazing sex in this chair. All the more amazing because unlike the bed, it
didn’t creak like a galleon in a storm, so we could have sex over and over in
the chair without making a sound. Apart from me moaning and groaning and
stifling cries when I came, that is.
If I turned round, stood up and grabbed the back of the chair, we could
achieve the same result with Richard standing up and entering me from behind, doggy style.
Again, my vagina and his penis were at the same height and all he needed to do
was just rock backwards and forwards to become a piston inside me. The chair is
right in front of the radiator and the window to the back garden. On one
seriously naughty occasion Richard was bumping in and out of me and I had moved
forward slightly so my arms were on the windowsill. Mum came out into the
garden and saw me at the window. She waved and called up to me, so I opened the
window and had a conversation with my Mum while Richard was still busy pushing
his length up and down my pussy behind me. It was the weirdest thing I have
ever done, talking to my Mum while being fucked.
Worse was the fact that, not only was he sliding so deep inside, his
fingers were rubbing my love bump for all they were worth, I could feel myself
building up to an orgasm and I had to try and not let Mum realise what was
happening while fireworks were going off in my head and groin. I actually had
an orgasm through sex in front of my mother and she didn’t know. Richard fired
his load in me at almost at the same time and I just had to get back inside the
room so I could wash his penis with my mouth. The stain on the cushion is still
there, I just turned the cushion over, when the wet patch had dried. I don’t
think Mum knows it’s there.
Seeing it as I put the cushion on the floor, so I could sit and stroke
Callie, brought it all flooding back to me [no pun intended – LOL]. I sat there
for a good hour or so, with my tablet on my lap answering questions on Y!A. She
seemed to have recovered from whatever it was that made her sick, so I climbed
back into bed and tried to go to sleep. [It was about 5am by now.] I had just
dozed off when I felt a mouth on my nipple. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming on
not at first, but sure enough it was Laura licking and sucking my left nipple.
She stopped and asked, “Everything OK?” I nodded. “Can I carry on?” I
nodded again.
As I lay there afterwards I reflected on the weirdness of the morning.
The cushion brought back a memory I hadn’t thought about for years and almost
immediately afterwards I was having a different kind of sex, one which I would
never have thought possible when I was engaged to Richard.
Up, dressed, out and walking the revitalised Callie at 7 am, we walked
along the ridge footpath that took us towards Owler Bar and drank in the view
north across the city. The view from up here is far better than the view from
my house, or even up the road from my house. From this vantage point you are
looking down on almost three quarters of Sheffield. At night it is even more
spectacular, with all the street lights stretching away into the distance.
When we got back the pup still seemed a bit under the weather and she
wasn’t keen on eating her food. So I whopped a “pred” down her neck. That
usually does the trick within a couple of hours. As no-one was stirring I
started cooking some bacon for breakfast. I don’t know what it is with the
smell of bacon but within 10 minutes of starting I had two hungry customers at
the breakfast bar.
Mum asked what we were going to do with the day. I said we had nothing
planned, so she asked if we fancied touring the garden centres and tea rooms of
the White Peak District. Not ones to pass up an opportunity for some retail
therapy from a new source we agreed. At 9 we piled into Mum’s car and headed
out for the Chatsworth Garden Centre. It didn’t open until 10! So we parked up
anyway at Calton Lees and walked along the Derwent to Rowlsey to the Craft
Centre there; Caudwell’s Mill. That didn’t open until 10 either but we figured
a stroll along the river would be very enjoyable and we’d get there at opening
time. We did. Laura bought herself a beautiful deep blue cotton dress with
sunflowers on it for £35!! It is gorgeous. I would have loved one too, but both
of us having one would be silly. We had a cuppa and a bun in the café and then
strolled back to Chatsworth Garden Centre. Here we browsed but didn’t buy
anything.
From there we drove up the Wye to Bakewell and were tourists there too.
I bought half a dozen Bakewell puddings [they are unique, nothing like the
Bakewell tarts people like Mr Kipling sell, at all] from Ye Olde Bakewell
Pudding Shoppe. Mum says she can remember visiting there as a child on holiday
from Hawick! That was in Victorian times, I joked. I will freeze 5 of them and
have one with our meal tonight.
I suppose it was because we’d been to Rowsley and Calton Lees before
Bakewell that there were masses of people there already. Mum found a really
cute plaque for Dad [they still exchange presents after the divorce] it is a
ceramic tile with a blue Citroen 2CV. Dad’s is red but the man in the shop said
they only made blue ones on the plaques. He’ll love it. It’s about the size of
a piece of A4 paper.
We went into the bookshop on the corner of the Monyash road and I found
a series of books, similar in style to Wainwrights, about the Peak District! I
bought the Dark Peak one, I have a sneaky feeling someone bought me the White
Peak one for Christmas! We all loved a wooden advent calendar designed to look
like a heap of presents next to a Christmas Tree and thought the kids would
love it. We then had a minor disagreement about who should buy it. Mum wanted
it to be a gift from Gran, I wanted it to be a gift from Laura and me, Laura
said, “Why not all three of us?” Mum and I turned on Laura and said [in unison
and without any planning], “Don’t be silly!” We all just giggled and decided we
would all buy it, between us and make sure it got to Angela and Peter before
December the first.
We drove up the road past the bookshop to Monyash and had lunch in the
Bull’s Head. Very tasty Sunday Roast. I had the beef, Laura had turkey and Mum
had three meats. The pub was quite busy but they managed to find us a table and
the food was really nice. I knew it was going to be good though as the tables
with food had bottles of Henderson’s relish on them. A Sheffield delicacy! We
shared a bottle of rose between us and even had dessert. What do you expect?
Traditional Bakewell Pudding. Laura, who has never had it before, was really
impressed and could now understand why I had bought six of them in the shop!
From her we scooted up to Ashford in the Water. Up past the Monsal Head
Inn, which looked as though it was bursting at the seams, and into Bradwell.
Mum wanted to buy some Bradwell Ice Cream from the factory shop. She got four
tubs, we bought two. From here we hit the Hope Valley and went to the Hope
Valley Garden Centre. This is more like a garden centre for people who are
gardeners, rather than a tourist attraction. I bought a book about growing
vegetables in raised bed. [That raised Mum’s eyebrows, so I explained as we
drove to Hathersage.]
In Hathersage we had a stroll with Callie up to see Little John’s Grave
in the church – another first for Laura – and then we did the retail bit again.
Mum was looking for something for Uncle Chris. She didn’t find anything she
liked. We toyed with idea of having another cuppa in Hathersage but as Mum’s
was so close we didn’t bother and just drove to her house. This way takes us
the reverse way to Surprise View and Toad’s Mouth, then past Fox House Inn and
finally Owler bar. It is a really nice route, doing it the other way!
We were pretty full still from lunch so we had just a cuppa at Mum’s
then set off back home. It was just going dark when we got in. The heating had
come on and the house was snug bug ruggly. We had one of the puddings as a midevening
snack warmed through and served with Bradwell Ice cream. Yummy in my Tummy.
By 9.30 we were past it. So Callie had a truncated last walk and we hit
the charp. Dirty cow that I was I hadn’t showered at all today! Can you believe
it? Maybe it’s a break through! LOL
No comments:
Post a Comment