After a huge fight with my girlfriend, I just deleted my Letterdash Blog. the whole lot gone. all my banal posts, all my hilarious posts and all my disgusting posts.
All Gone.
Then I was looking for some information in my deleted emails folder and here I am.
Maybe I will follow up with this
Maybe I won’t.
Yesterday I was in beaufort west. I left at four in the AM and I got to my dinner party in the centre of Cape Town at about nine-thirty in the PM. I was well shagged by the time I got back.
While in Beaufort West… mmm, let me make one thing clear straight off the bat… I was not actually in Beaufort West. Beaufort West is merely my closest ‘civilised’ town. I was well in the middle of nowhere. I was doing some extra work that my client insisted I do if I wanted to get paid. I wasn’t up to arguing as the weather prognosis for Somerset West was not great. He said he would pay my costs for getting up there and back so I said, okay. And off I went. With two chainsaws and a ladder and enough snacks to prevent starvation. And lots of warm clothes including a pin-hole burnt, white jacket that my girlfriend hates.
And hate it she does. She insists that I don’t wear it when I am within 100 miles of her. And yet she loves her Police Sunglasses. And her Police Sunglasses are pig ugly. She, the fashionista, says they are beautiful. This revelation surprises me somewhat as I think she normally has great taste. the specs are sort of wraparound numbers and they are so desperately ugly, you would expect George Michael to get a pair. Of course, my protests are squashed because her colleagues all love her glasses. Of course they love them… they daren’t not love them… she is their boss.
But I digress. Where I was working, it was snowing. The snow pretty much melted as it hit the ground but snow it nonetheless was. And it was cold. But I had my white fleece jacket and I went about my business wearing that. When the flurries stopped, I would take the jacket off and work with just a t-shirt.
But there is no denying it was cold. Now, back in somerset west, I should be happy because it isn’t nearly as cold here as it is there. Not to say it isn’t cold, though. It is terribly cold. but the temperature is probably comfortably higher than on the farm.
The cold there is pretty much superficial. Here I am cooled to the bone.
Why is that?
Well, it could be that we have more moisture here. but I wouldn’t know. Anybody seen where my sheepskin slippers are? And my blankey? And my hot water bottle?
None of this solves the Police Sunglasses issue… which she is bound to where in her company. I think I will wear my ugly white jacket full of pinhole burns (currently unwashed and smelly) whenever she wears them. When it is too hot for the white jacket, then I will have to buy myself some nasty nylon Hawaii 5-0 style shirts and maybe some cheap t-shirts that suggest I was quarterback for some university grid-iron team.
Nutmeg came strolling into the office.
I had slept at the woman’s house the last two nights and now I suppose that he wanted my attention. He had been tripping me up the whole day whenever he had the chance and now, belly full, he came for yet another dose of attention. He is a very strange cat. I struggle to believe that nobody wanted this four year old furry love-bundle. Ginger like I wanted, a hot water bottle that everybody should own.
When he walks he has all the ego and confidence and arrogance you expect from a tom. As he jumped onto the desk the illusion of supremacy, along with my note books and loose papers and ashtray full of butt-ends, came crashing down.
He was obviously embarressed. After such a moment, you would think the cat would run for the hills so not to suffer the shame. He did not. Instead, he hid under my desk. I stood up so I could see him. He looked up at me, gave a gentle mew and found a safer route via the spare office chair and back to where he wanted to be.
A few days earlier, he had virtually destroyed the printer when he jumped on it. Fortunately I could get between the printer and the ground before anything overly nasty could happen. that time he ran for the hills and just as well; I had wanted to belt the crap out of him.
Nutmeg; In nearly forty years of cat ownership, I have never met a cat so at odds with gravity’s effects.
And she said.
then you said.
And it all became a mess.
Your ego holds.
Hers holds too.
It all gets very sticky.
And there is nothing you want to do
to let go of your end the bone.
ChrisH is a genius
This I cannot defy
Shift plus enter
double spacing does deny
Chris, you are my mentor
I don’ thave a fekking clue how to do basic editing here.
For instance… I don’t want any line spacing when I hit the return carriage.
i mean, when I write a poem, does this mean I have to have a space between each line?
Tis now the winter of my discontent
Romeo, wherefore art thou, big boy?
For it is better to dodge the slings and arrows
of a dagger in my hand
than to have a horse with all these fucking line spacings.
It makes no sense, does it? Not that having the linespacing issues would make any frigging difference. Geez, if I wanted double line spacings, I would just hit the return key twice. How fucking difficult is that?
Apparently the designers at WordPress think it will be very difficult.
Rapidly approaching the landmark of forty, I thought to mysef, why not? Why not just do it. My girlfriend had just switched of the lights and we were getting ready to get some sleep. “You don’t have your costume here, do you?”
Well, it is the middle of winter. Why would I have my costume with me? Apparently this was the answer she was looking for. “Well, if it is a lovely day tomorrow like it was today, then we should take a ride on the scooter. Of course, if it is a lovely day, then we will want a walk on the beach and maybe a swim. But you don’t have a costume here, we will just have to go to a nudist beach.”
There was much trepidation as I approached the beach. I had never been to a nudist beach before and I didn’t really know how I felt about my girlfriend being naked in public. I was well aware of what a chauvinist I was being. After all, I didn’t really have any serious issues with other women seeing me naked or seeing other women’s bodies in their open displays.
Sandy Bay is on the Atlantic. The temperature control comes from the Benguella Current. The benguella current starts a few metres from Antarctica. Antarctica is made of ice. The water is quite cold. Furthermore, yesterday’s date was the 26th of July and that is virtually the middle of winter for us in the Southern Hemisphere. Madness, surely, to go to the beach. Normally I would agree but yesterday was a Capetonian day at the most perfect. Clear blue sky, warm sun and not a drop of wind. On this day, it came to pass that I became a happy nudist.
Sandy Bay has a rich history. People have long been coming here to be in the buff in the sun. In the early 80s, the police raided the place a few times. Whatever for, I will never understand. Nearly thirty years later it is still quite remote and from the direction I came in, it is a 15/20 minute walk. To see anybody naked with the naked eye from Llandudno is virtually impossible unless you are Superman. The nekkid revelers could not have been disturbing a single soul not on the beach. To think that some of my fellow countrymen still miss the Old South Africa and that childish controlling governance is beyond all good sense.
I don’t know if I would quite have been as comfortable on the beach without my girlfriend in attendance. Many long and short-willied men and old men prowl. A couple with their young daughter decided to be all touristy and just exist on the beach. Dad was fairly natural and ignoring all the nudity around him. Mom was having a good look. Men who are nothing short of sleazoids patrol up and down the beach. My girlfriend has public nudity down to a fine art. Everytime there was an obvious wanderer, she would sit up and bring her knees to her chest. I think that the city would do well to actually have a gate up on the beach… if you wanna walk on it, you need to be naked and if you aren’t you get fined or even better, tossed in jail for trespassing. The amount of muslim men walking on this beach was staggering. I don’t hate Muslim men, but I do hate hypocrites… these guys probably all had wives in Bhurkas back home.
The beach is beautiful. Council doesn’t do clean up operations here, it would seem, so a lot of litter gets washed from the sea. It would be nice if a group of people would get together with black bags and do some cleaning up. But the water is clear. Very clear. And cold. And if you ever thought shrinkage was a myth, I can tell you that it isn’t. Furthermore, any questions and doubts I may have harboured about “am I big enough” were washed away with the tide yesterday. There are men who I feel would do well to just use their equipment for little more than passing water. And yet they are quite content to parade their short comings.
There were women on the beach but not that many and of those that were there, not many were undressed. I have no issue with that. Men, however were plentiful. Some are just there for the sun, some are there to socialize. A lot, unsurprisingly, are there to cruise. But it is all subtle, elephant-in-the-room stuff. People stare but don’t try catch eye-contact. A black guy with an anaconda dangling from his crotch did walk fairly close to me making sure I knew what he was packing. People 100m away knew what he was packing. Some older gentleman with a hooked member was within my peripheral view all the while I was in for one of my swims. He was lurking and on the pull. I almost had a chat with one guy when I was swimming but it is hard ( Oops! I mean it is difficult). I mean, what on earth does one naked man say to another. Other than the cruisers, there are a few leerers. I feel sorry for those and I am sure they could be cured with a baseball bat.
At one point, there was a woman on a horse on the beach. She was trying to look all in command and sexy when actually she wasn’t much of either. Okay, she was fairly sexy. I had walked past her as I came out of the water. When I got back to my girlfriend, she said; “Sweetie, that woman on the horse was perving at you.”
“Well, my darling,” I said looking into my beloved’s eyes, “I would be very disappointed if she wasn’t.”
