Posts tagged ‘Legs’

February 24, 2012

A Brief Encounter, under the bed!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Those of you who are familiar with my posts will know of my devotion to duty in my continuous assaults on the virtue of ‘The Blonde With The Legs’, but more of that later!

I have many things to tell you, there is for example a family trip to the theatre which was, as you may well have expected, a total shambles – but that story is for another day. I must first tell you about today…  No, on second thoughts I will start with last night.

11pm and I am about to get ready for bed – and my well-earned rest. My ankle (operated leg) had been playing up all day and was rather sore, in fact it was quite painful. Now, I put this down to my using it a lot more than it has been used for some time and the joints being a little stiff.

My first indication that all was not well was when I had difficulty getting my shoe off, then I struggled to get the sock off. When I did, I noticed instantly (I’m very quick) that my ankle and lower leg were swollen to the size of a Goodyear Blimp.

A little concerned at the sight of my swollen limb, I looked around for reassurance and heard the television in my son’s room. Knowing, therefore, that he must still be awake, and finding myself in a bit of a panic, I staggered into his room, waving my leg furiously in front of me.

‘Look at the size of that’, I said, making my way to his bedside. It’s okay, dad, I can see it from here, that’s a fair old size!’

‘It’s bloody sore too’, I said, what do you think caused that?’

Bye the way, I was now limping badly on a leg that had, up until I had seen the size of it, been working perfectly!”

‘Don’t worry too much about it, dad, it’s probably just a clot or something,’ he said very thoughtfully – and seriously.

‘Oh, goody, I thought, It’s only thrombosis, what the hell am I worrying about.’

I immediately went back to my room, lay on my bed and waited for death. At 7am I woke myself up with my snoring and realized that, not only was I still alive but the swelling had gone down.

Which brings me back to my original and favourite theme, The Blonde With The Legs.

Sometime after lunch, in bright, warm sunshine, I meandered out into the front garden to lean on the gate, gaze at the Rowan tree and make a daily wish.

Two seconds later my wish was answered at what can only be described as high speed because the ‘The Blonde With The Legs’ came flying at me, pushed me out of the way, ran into the house and shot up the stairs.

Bye God, I thought, the old girl’s keen, that’s what I call wish fulfilment and I took off after her!

I tell you, folks, I was like a sixteen year old who thought the chance to lose his virginity had finally arrived – I went up those damn stairs two at a time WHILST TRYING TO GET ME SWEATER  OFF!

I saw her disappear into the spare bedroom and in my haste to follow, tripped over the final stair, staggered two steps across the carpet and went head-first into the linen cupboard door. Aware that a chance like this, provided by the gods, may never come again, I quickly recovered and dived into the spare room in time to see a pair of nylon-clad and very shapely legs sticking out from under the bed.

A tad kinky, I though, but ‘what the hell’ whatever floats her boat is okay by me! I was about to dive into action when the siren voice of my beloved arose from the dust-laden, stygian blackness under the bed.

‘KEEP YOUR DISTANCE! Put your grubby paws anywhere near me and I will wring your neck.’ The lady has a way with words – pure poetry…

A few seconds later, a tousled, blonde head appeared from beneath the bed along with two arms that held, lovingly, her flamin’ cat!

‘There, mummy, saved you from the nasty man,’ she said, tickling the thing under the chin.

Turns out, that she had seen her cat take a fledgling blackbird chick from the garden and suspecting that, if I saw it first, I would be less than kind, she rushed to get to it before I did. The cat had bolted into our house and she had followed in hot pursuit.

So, there was a moment in that bedroom when me and that moggy stared at each other and I could see that the cat understood that its one-eyed rear end is well overdue an appointment with a large boot!

But, ‘The Blonde With The Legs… She has the poise, the speed and the grace of a dancer, and a heart of pure granite – what a woman!

 

 

 

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January 20, 2012

The Blonde with the legs has deserted me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I might as well begin this blog as I mean to go on, detailing my love life – err lack of it – as it lurches from disaster to abject failure and back again. Four years I have devoted to the pursuit of one woman and neither of us is getting any younger. At the moment, well…

I am having a really bad time. I have been driving my daughter around the country in her quest for a job and in the past couple of weeks the ’miles travelled score’ is well into four figures. I get up, have a shower and start driving, I go to bed driving – two o’clock this morning I carried out an emergency braking manoeuvre and fell out of bed.

I have cats in the garden, blue-tits in the wall, mice in the shed and my son has fleas – everything is going wrong. The bread has gone mouldy, milk’s off, we’ve run out of sugar and tea and I had to have sausages for my breakfast, I am going to bed with heartburn.

Which brings me to the blonde-with-the-legs who is being even less co-operative than normal. She saw me yesterday in the road for the first time in weeks and what did she say?

‘Thought, we’d got rid of you – I haven’t had a bruise for ages.’ The years I have dedicated to the pursuit of that woman…

I let her unfortunate remark go by me, flung my head high and ignored her.

‘Something wrong with your neck she asked?’ Again I ignored her, gave her the cold shoulder.

I decided to be haughty, treat her with distain, cold and proud – after a week I realised it wasn’t working. I went around to her house to give her a piece of my mind!

‘I have come to give you a piece of my mind,’ I said.

‘Sure you can spare it,’ She said

‘I have a damn-good mind to dump you and go back to my ex-wife,’ I said.

‘Give her my sympathy,’ She said

‘You have broken my heart,’ I said.

‘I was tryin’ f’ yer neck,’ she said.

‘You have broken my heart. You are the only woman I have ever really loved and you have thrown that love back in my face and left me desolate and alone.’

‘That’s another thing,’ She said. ‘I am never going to the theatre with you again. You’ve been hamming it up ever since we saw Les Mis’ – you’ve been unbearable.’

‘You’re terrified of real emotion,’ I said

‘Rats,’ She said.

‘I’m going and I won’t be back,’ I said. ‘Don’t come looking for me, as far as you are concerned, I won’t be there,’

It was no good, though. You just can’t get real feeling into it when you’re shouting through a letter box.

first posted on the ON/AVN SGIA, Inc. site