Hunched over, barely visible in the dark room, standard lamp flickering in the opposite corner. She was wearing that saggy old stained dress which she virtually lived in.
‘I’m dying, I’m dying’ she declared breathily, eyes theatrically wide in what I assumed to be feigned terror. It was comical.
’What’s wrong with you?’ I asked flatly. We’d been there so often.
We played that game, two truths and a lie. We were drunk of course. Red wine rings on what had been a spotless white linen tablecloth, ash strewn where ashtrays had been missed. Someone had stabbed their fag into the butter. Lesley’s eyes flashed. No-one admitted to it. Not so funny now was it.
‘Yes, do I know you?’
He looked puzzled, embarrassed.
‘Err, hang on..’
But why would he after so long? We were both drunk, it was a one-off, and it was dark in that cramped car.
He still didn’t register.
‘Don’t worry, it’s been a long time. I take it these boys are yours? They look just like you, that pudding bowl haircut you used to have.’
(I have interviewed the Mistress, Her House Slave, Her P.A., a Freudian Psychoanalyst and a sex therapist for a comprehensive article on this subject.)
(the word Mistress and related pronouns are traditionally in capital letters)
A friend told me one day – ‘I have a really interesting opportunity. If I tell you, promise not to laugh.’ I duly promised. ‘I’m going to be helping a Dominatrix. It’s mostly personal assistant work, answering the phone, taking bookings, optimising the website etc. It’s also a really great writing opportunity.’ Read More
“This is a recipe from the tribal territories,” he booms in his usual stentorian fashion. I suppose it’s because he was a Major in the army in Pakistan.
“You Brits never use enough spice” he carries on, tipping a waterfall of ground coriander into the bubbling tomatoes. No wonder those Asian supermarkets sell spices in such huge quantities. Read More
(full piece available on request)
I recently met a woman at a meet-up group who makes her living out of writing male-to-male erotic romance. What is even stranger about this is the fact that some 70% of readers are women.
So Judy Murray, Andy’s mother, is through again on Strictly Come Dancing. It does seem odd that she is considered to be a celebrity because she is the mother of a celebrity. Even odder, It has actually been suggested she won’t get the votes because her son encouraged people to vote ‘yes’ in Scotland’s campaign for independence.
It seems ludicrous to penalise people who fish perfectly edible food out of the likes of Iceland’s bins. Surely the main problem is that the supermarkets have so much waste in the first place. Read More
There’s been so much press recently about the dangers of London cycling. Many years ago, in my twenties, I cycled everywhere in London. I covered about a hundred miles a week. I must have been very fit but I’m just amazed I never had an accident.
I thought I’d do something different last Christmas – the idea of slobbing around and eating too much, watching The Snowman and the Queen’s Speech yet again, didn’t appeal. Read More
Well done Murray for winning The Sports Personality of the Year Award, in spite of ‘having no personality’.