Ah So!

I received a very nice compliment today, in that someone who had read this blog asked me to contribute to another. Regretfully, I declined, as I have too much to do at the moment as it is.

I do, however, intend to contribute to stillsexyatsixty when it's up and running. After all, I have several birthday cards from a year or two ago which say " older.... wiser.... sexier." And who am I to disagree?

Anyway, the other nice thing that happened today was I had an exchange of emails with a lady in China, who says her name is Jane Russell.

Now actually, I'm pretty sure her real name is something like Wang Bo, and she just wishes she had the body and looks of Miss Russell ( By the way, did you know Howard Hughes invented a special bra for her for one of his films? I presume he had to handle her breasts a lot to make sure it fitted...As I recall the movie was "The Outlaw" -appropriate, I think)

She is our account executive at one of the parking companies we use for domains, and her emails are a permanent delight. We ask her to do something, which she does, but then goes way way beyond the call of duty, and is pathetically eager to please. If all the Chinese that people deal with are like her then we might as well give up now.

So you can imagine my delight when the following came in from her..:

"Thanks for your reply ,I find ideas from your ideas and will tickling up to senior management."

In the UK, I'm sure she would be done for sexual harassment, but I'm pretty sure it's a good career move in China.

Scandal! Gossip!

Now I know it's Poisson d'Avril, but this is absolutely true ( and tickles my sense of glee. )
I live in an area of Glasgow where there are various kinds of social occasion, including concerts, Gal days and the like. Not every married couple equally like such events, so as we live in an enlightened and open society, one couple's husband could quite easily escort another man's wide to eg an art show, whilst the other halves went their own ways quite separately.
Nothing wrong in that... except... I'm a very cynical old King. As Reggie's CJ would say, " I didn't get to where I am today by being not cynical and eating pumice stone.."
There is one couple with an age difference of about 30 years. The lady concerned is a bit ditzy, but hey that's fine, she's nice looking, well dressed and quite cheery.
Her husband likes football, she likes concerts. So she goes to concerts - with another married man who is about the same age as the husband - a " walker".
And has done for years.
And being an entirely cynical chap, I've always thought they were at it like rabbits in spring. It is undeniable that a year or so into the " relationship" she had glammed up a bit more and had a silly smile on her face - as did the walker.
Time goes on, and the smiles faded.
Move forward a year or two. I happen to be in the doc's surgery today having the remains of my face removed - when lo and behold in comes the walker, muffled up, cap pulled down over face, coat turned up. He would have been unable to recognise me.
He goes to where the repeat prescriptions are collected, but finds his is not there. He whispers his name to the receptionist, who calls across to her colleague, " Has the doc not done Mr.Walker's Viagra prescription yet?"
You heard it here first.
PS
I have a running joke with a friend that I can tell when people have been at it - they have flashing signs on their head, which fade until they do it again. And the more they do it the brighter the sign.
So if you see a couple with one flashing sign but not over the other......

When good things remain good..

The weekend was spent down at Colintraive overlooking Kyles of Bute. For once, the weather was immaculate, dazzling blue skies and a light covering of snow to make the whole place magical. The intention had only been to go for Saturday lunch, but we got a call from our friends saying hurry up and get down.

The weather remained fabulous the whole time we were there.

In these remoter parts of Scotland, one does not come across that many young people (in the group of houses were our friends stay, the youngest inhabitant is over 75, with the oldest nearing 99) which means a slower more genteel way of life pertains, with politeness and deference in abundance.

Two little stories from a wedding as reported from dinner on Saturday night.

One of the guests, approaching his 50th. wedding anniversary, says that his father took him aside the night before his wedding.

" What did the one silk stocking say to the other silk stocking?"

" No idea"

" Heavens above." This, apparently, was the extent of his sexual education.

The other was one of the witnesses at the wedding was wearing a pair of trews. As they were about to leave the vestry where the signing and witnessing had taken place, the Bishop who had married the couple, took up his crook, and hooked the betrewed witness's male member. He had forgotten to do up the buttons on his trews and the offending article had popped out.

" I know you intend to use that on the chief bridesmaid later, " he intoned," But I really think you should keep it warm until then..."

There can't be many that have been thus sanctified before use...

The best days of our lives..

This post in the Speccie referring to compulsory sex education for 15 year olds, reminded me of my own introduction to S-E-X.
When I went to School ( no, not Eton, the one Lord Peter Wimsey referred to as a Railway Junction) there was what was called the " New Boys Course".
This consisted of an induction course, which included where everything was ( stinks lab, swimming pool, where all the Houses were) but also included three half hour lessons on " Human Beings".
Of course, the boys who had already done the course puffed it up outrageously -" Yeah it's SEX!!!". So obviously we were all agog (we 13 year old rampaging hormonal spotted oiks) to get to them. There was never a cry off. In fact, one boy had missed the LAST lecture the year before and he was COMPELLED to attend the third and final talk in his second term.
Being schoolboys, there was of course an Omerta about what was actually said. Torture would never have opened our mouths.
We all trooped in for the first lecture. It was given by the biology master, whose name was Potty Falk. He started off staring above our heads in his dry voice, and began on plants. Then fish - and the lesson finished.
The second one began in the same way, with a brief resume of what had gone before - and went on to frogs.
And then the lesson ended.
The third and final lecture began with a complete resume of the first two lessons, with Potty being even more ethereal and starey into space. The boy who had missed the previous term's final fling was in the front row, riveted to every word.
Potty began to talk about rabbits. I particularly remember the bit about the female rabbit's scut ( tail) flattening up her back when the buck mounted her. Potty drew diagram's on the board. The clock ticked. Potty drew a picture of a doe's reproductive system.
The clock ticked. He drew a picture of the buck's reproductive system.
The clock ticked as the silence was absolute.
And then the bell rang for the end of the lesson.
And Potty looked at the clock and said:
" And it's pretty much the same for human beings"
Can't say I've ever tried it on a rabbit....

Wa's like us *

Today is the make or break day in in Scotlands Football World Cup campaign. They are playing Holland at home at Hampden, and as usual the newspapers and pundits are all saying WE WILL WIN!
However, on past ( and probably future) performance, I think it extremely unlikely that they will. Scotland's Footballing Heroes invariably have feet of clay, and they are playing a Dutch side which is one of the best for some time. Allied to that is that Holland have won every game and are on 21 points, with Scotland in second place on just 10.
What is rather nice are all the Tartan Army Lads and Lasses wandering around in their blue Scottish Football Tartan ( as distinct from anything vaguely resembling a real tartan), and the Dutch in their orange outfits. In this city of sectarian football divide, at least 50% of the population are probably having a collective fit.
But even if they lose ( which I think is almost a foregone conclusion), provided Norway and Macedonia draw, Scotland will go through. If that were the case, I can guarantee that some papers tomorrow will be saying that the World Cup is within our grasp. Scottish people are nothing if not carried away by passion and emotion.
You may have noticed my mentioning the odd single shoe which crops up all over the place.
Well, I thinnk passion and emotion clearly overtook two people in a bus shelter the other day.
There was not one, but 4 shoes. Two pairs. One womens's, one man's. Women's very definitely killer heels.
I hope they enjoyed themselves.
It does make one wonder what happened to prevent them putting them back on.
Or even why they took them off in the first place....
* Who is like us? or What are we like?
PS: Scotland lost 1-0. Ah well, that's it over for another 4 years..
PPS:... except of course we will win the European Championship in 2 years time..

Is it better?

I simply love this.
A male Chinese opera singer callled Shi Pei Pu ( prounced " Shuh") persuades a French diplomat called Bernard Bouriscot that he was a woman, and they have an affair. Shi also persuades him he is the father of their child.
The details of spying and so on are rather risible, but none more so than the thought that a man - a Frenchman at that - wouldn't notice the similarities between he and his lover.
I'm reminded of the story ( I can't remember who by or its name) in which a woman is persuaded to capture - shall we say - the essence of great men to inseminate ladies who have a passion for them. So, for example, George Bernard Shaw had a great following, as did Proust.
Now there is a difference between these two. GBS was noted for liking ladies, and Proust was quite the opposite. So how did the lady in the story manage it?
Well, she had available a sort of Viagra which made men mad with lust, and then only had to slip a condom onto them. When finished, she simply took it away with her.
With Proust, she made herself look like a boy, fed him the pill, and as he was about to descend on her ( from the rear) persuaded him to put on the condom. He was of course non-plussed, but she persuaded him that it was better with than without.
She subsequently ran away with all the other samples apart from Proust's , which she left with the man who had dreamt up the whole scam.
Who was able to make a very decent living out of it.