Holding a candle.

Last night I went out. To a Party. It being the festive season and all. The hostess has been a dear friend for more than 18 years. I love her. She's my best friend. There was a boy there (man). I used to have a thing with him. Mind you...it was a very, very long time ago. We dated for a while..and then it kind of fizzled out. But - because we have a big group of mutual friends - and because there was no animosity - we have remained friends. As far as I know he hasn't ever dated anyone since. I have that effect on men. It was nice to see him again. Nice like daffodils are nice. Nice like bread and butter is nice. So..it's nice - but I wouldn't bat an eye if I never ate bread and butter again - or ever saw another daffodil. That's my drift - you've got it...right?

It would seem that this chap is still holding a candle. Pour moi. He was a bit under the influence. Alcohol had been consumed in medium sized quantities. I enquired after his general health (as you do). He grabbed my hand. And didn't let go. That made things awkward. There were drinks and sandwiches. It became particularly awkward when I decided to eat a pickled onion. As you may know..that's usually a two handed task.

During the conversation he told me that I was a bit too headstrong. A bit too opinionated. Sometimes a bit difficult. He also mentioned that he usually prefers girls with a bit more chest. And a bit more height. And dark hair. And girls that can cook. And, obviously someone who lived closer. Did he pay me any compliments? Did he extol my many virtues? Did he say what is what about me that he found so attractive? Did he mention my wit, my clever brain, my lovely face, my sexy ass? Funnily enough...No. He never did. But he did ask what I thought about us 'giving it another go'. Apparently we can start again on New Year's Eve - because there's a party he's been invited to and he'd like to take me along. As his date.

Now...I know I'm getting older. I know my choices are becoming more diminished with the passing of each sunset. I know that beggars can't be choosers. I know that I've been on my own for 2 years now. I know that things may be beginning to shrivel. I know that if you don't use it you might lose it. I know all of this. No..really I do.

Am I tempted? Even a little bit?

I don't even need to type the answer. Do I?

Garden Birds

Oh my God. I have just had the most embarrassing experience EVER. I went to Boots. The Chemist. For a simple remedy. One tablet. For a lady's condition which shares the same name a a common garden bird. And that's as much detail as you're going to get. If you can't work it out from that perhaps you shouldn't be reading this blog.

I'm not afflicted by this condition often - perhaps half a dozen times in my entire lifetime. For that I am thankful. However - the ladies amongst us who have ever suffered from this affliction will know how urgent a remedy is when one is suffering.

It was busy in Boots - and there were a few people in the queue at the dispensary. The other customers were gentlemen. Patiently I waited for my turn, and whilst doing so a further three gentleman joined the queue behind me.

At last my turn arrived and I approached the counter. Lady assistant. Phew. I quietly told her what I wanted...to which her reply at some decibel level which was clearly designed for the whole of Sheffield to hear was....'Do you usually use the cream or the pessary for your Thrush'?

The bitch was about nineteen. I hate her. Right now I am mixing a potion in my kitchen cauldron which when I dance naked round my garden at midnight...sprinking it upon the earth and chanting well chosen words.....will render her hairless on every part of her body for years to come.