Exotic Love

Gthes 6

Since my wife’s return from India, my life has been changed utterly. Even our conversations are totally different. When I say ” How are you this morning? ” Lydia laughs and says,” WHY are you this morning?”

Then there is the chanting and dancing bit. She brought a CD  back with her and seated in what she tells me is the lotus position she chants along with it. The same notes/words over and over – Ka – Ri – Na – Ka – Ri – Na – Ka – Ri – Na – Ka – Ri – Na – Ka Ri – Na – Ka – Ri …..  I occasionally chant along with her so that she doesn’t feel I am being a negative presence although, unlike her, I feel pretty self-conscious about it all. What if one of my clients happens to peek in the window?

Then there is her dance routine. She starts by shaking herself all over and snuffling through her nose then her chanting becomes louder, she leaps about from foot to foot then throwing her arms into the air jumps and lands with a jarring thud on her heels. The heels, she tells me, are the font of sexuality. Then she whirls around and screams and shouts. This, she says, releases and drives out all her false selves, her bad spirits.

The one time I tried to join in, two policemen alerted by neighbours came to the door and refused to go till they saw for themselves that she was alive and unharmed and heard her rather too full explanation of what had been happening. I have a feeling they could hardly wait till they got back to the station to share the joke with the lads.

Love of Flying

plane 4r

Talk to me, Janet said.

We are about to take off, I said, the mighty engines are gathering strength, slowly ever so slowly the giant wheels begin to trundle down the runway, then the pilot slams open the throttle and we go faster and faster then with a mighty swoosh the wheels leave the runway and the plane shoots into the sky, leaving mother earth far below us,  dwindling ever dwindling.  Ah!  We settle back in our seats, begin to relax, unfasten our safety belts. But what’s this?  Flames shooting out of number two engine! We’re losing power. The nose is beginning to droop. Oh my God, we’re going down! Panic stations. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! We’re out of control.  We’re –

I’ve just about had enough of this, Janet said, putting on her clothes.

Let’s Do It






For years nothing much had happened in our unadventurous lives but we were quite content with our little lot. At least I was. There was a regular pattern to our days that we found reassuring. At least I did. Then one day we found this strange plant in the garden with yellow flowers, purple florets, red berries and heart-shaped leaves.

Let’s dry the leaves, Dorothy said. Out of the blue.

Try the leaves?

Dry the leaves Cloth-ears!

What’s the point of that? I asked and immediately regretted my question as Dorothy went straight into her Primary School Headmistress mode. Like a TV presenter reading from the auto-cue:

Drying, she said,  is a method of food preservation in which food is dehydrated. This inhibits the growth of bacteria, yeasts, and mould through the removal of water.  Dehydration has been used widely for this purpose since ancient times. The earliest known practice is 12,000 B.C. by inhabitants of the modern Middle East and Asia regions. Water is traditionally removed through air drying, sun drying, smoking or wind drying, although today electric food dehydrators can be used to speed the drying process and ensure more consistent results. So What do you think? We have a dehydrator up in the attic somewhere. Let’s do it.

Okay, I said. Without any great degree of enthusiasm or expectation. For all that she watches so many cooking programmes on television, Dorothy isn’t the world’s greatest cook. Her timing. Things are either under- or over-cooked.
Okay. Let’s do it.It’s not as if it can do us any harm.

Six hours later, the leaves were so brittle that they turned to powder at a touch.

Put that in your pipe and smoke it, I said, not sarcastically, a feeble sort of joke which I regretted as soon as I’d made it..

Good thinking, Batman, Dorothy said. Let’s do it.

So I went out to the tobacconist and bought a Meerschaum which the tobacconist said would ensure a pleasingly cool smoke.

You first, Dorothy said.

No, after you, I said.

I lit a match for Dorothy and held it over the bowl of the pipe. Dorothy took a puff then passed the pipe to me.

I took a puff and waited. Nothing much happened. A  cinamonny flavour left in the mouth. A slight smell in the air like after you’ve peeled an orange. Not unpleasant. But all in all a bit of an anti-climax.

The effect won’t be immediate, Dorothy said. It takes time for it to get round all your …whatyamacallits and reach the brain. We’ve hardly started yet.

We took a few more puffs.

Can you feel anything yet? Dorothy asked.

I shook my head then I began to panic a little.

How do we know what effect it – whatever it is – will have on our brains?

That’s the beauty of it, Dorothy said with one of her little smiles. We don’t.

Tomorrow we’re going to do something with the berries once we get back the use of our limbs

Obsessive Love

Copy of red dress 1mm

I saw a TV show the other night which promised to transform my life. Dr. Lock, an elderly psychiatrist, revealed the secret of how to get off with women. All women. Any  woman. You just look into her eyes and tell her softly that she’s the most beautiful woman in the room/ country/ world and keep looking into her eyes while listening carefully to her response. And  you keep looking straight into her eyes as you tell her she is the woman you have been searching for all your life and at last you’ve found her.

It’s a form of hypnotism, he explained. The more intelligent the woman, the more responsive she will be.  And if it works for me, it can work for anyone .  It will alter your life forever, believe you me, he promised.

I get enthusiastic about advice like that, I’ve always had this feeling that there’s a great deal of hidden me just waiting to get out if only I can find the key.

At the next party I went up to this girl on her own – not the most beautiful girl in the world but a  great hairstyle,  intelligent looking, nice smile  – and followed Dr. Lock’s instructions to the letter.

It worked like a charm.

The only problem is that my previously hidden self seems to be horrified by women who are besotted by me. I’ve stopped answering my phone, have left strict instructions  at the office that if anyone called Jennifer tries to contact me to say I have left the company and even now, peeking out through the curtains, I can see her in a doorway across the street, waiting in the wind and the rain, her hair being blown this way and that, trying to light a cigarette with shaking hands.

Selfless Love

LANZA ladyinredside

Priscilla has left me for another woman.  The first woman she left me for was so mean and jealous that after a month she was back, promising she would never leave me again. For a while it was like the early days when we couldn’t do enough for each other, couldn’t get enough of each other. But last week I came into the house to find her with a woman I had never seen before, Rosalia, a Spanish flamenco dancer over here for the Festival, dark  flashing eyes, liquid voice, great cheek bones, skin like ivory. And those hands!
I went to see her dance. She was magic.
My friends are generally full of sympathy and at work my boss put an arm round my shoulder and said, ” Don’t feel bitter. And if you want some time off, just say the word. “
But what is there to feel bitter about? If I were her, I would have left me too for a woman like that.

Thoughtful Love


My girl friend Amelia is that unusual combination, logical and sensitive. For a long time I thought she was the only woman for me. Then I saw her walking hand in hand out of the cinema with the young man who came to fix our television. I kept thinking about it all the time. My work was suffering because of it. I kept  meaning to ask her straight out if she was being unfaithful but didn’t want her to feel I was the heavily jealous type.
But today my boss came up to me and said if I didn’t snap out of it I could start looking for another job.  “Sha
pe  up or ship out ” was what he said. Then I saw them at lunch time having a cappuccino, holding hands over the table.
When I told Amelia that I was having all these problems at work and that I knew she was seeing someone else, she threw her arms around me, tears welling up in her eyes. ” Isn’t it wonderful how everything works out for the best? ” she said. ” I have been meaning for so long to tell you I had fallen out of love with you. I didn’t know how to,  didn’t want to hurt your feelings. But now that you know I’m someone else’s girlfriend, you don’t need to give  
me a second thought. “

Insecure Love

My girlfriend was so beautiful
Copy of supercouple

I was afraid to take her out in case I should lose her to some passing Lothario who would slip her his telephone number scribbled on the back of a $20 bill when I had my back turned or to some smooth talker who would sidle up to her in the restaurant while I had gone to the toilet or to some film producer who just happened to see us passing by and recognised that beauty such as hers was worth its weight in gold and was there for the taking.

Months of what I thought was understanding and contentment passed by and then one day, out of the blue, she said, ” We can’t go on like this. “

” Like what? ” I asked with assumed insousiance though my heart was hammering against my ribs.

” Like this, ” she said, lifting her arm up so quickly that the handcuff bit into my wrist.

Al Fresco Love


When my girlfriend becomes aroused, she insists that we go outside and find somewhere very public and very dangerous to act out her crazy impulses.  

She especially enjoys  kissing and entwining her supple self round me in the main street with all the cars whizzing past, honking their horns,  flashing their lights.

Most of all she is stimulated by the lewd remarks shouted at us by shaven-headed thugs leaning from the windows of their flashy cars  with CD players turned up full volume and making obscene gestures with their fingers and forearms as they pass.

When we get back home, fired up after one of these outings, she likes nothing better than kicking off her shoes and lying on the sofa with a giant tub of popcorn on her chest, watching old Humphrey Bogart movies, flicking popcorn into her open mouth and shouting things like, Get ’em off, baby! and Just do it for Chrissake!

The African Queen is our favourite.


Married Love



I had just stepped into the shower, just got the temperature right, when the doorbell rang –  da da dum daaa…..da da dum daaa……………..da da dum daaa…..da da dum daaa…..

Janet was always forgetting her key so, just to tease her a bit I let her ring twice  more then just to shock her a bit, to make her laugh, ( this was in the early days of our marriage when wfooled around a lot) I pulled open the door,  stark-naked except for the towel which I had draped over my head ( at the back of my mind was the thought What if it isn’t Janet?) and said Whoever you are get these clothes off ,  I’m in the mood for love and whipped the towel off my head.

You forgot  to put petrol in the car ” Janet snarled, pushing past. ” I had to get a taxi back.”

Self Love

  • Munch 2

With some people it’s dentists but with me it was hairdressers so for a long time in my teens I had been cutting my own hair.

The top and the sides weren’t too difficult but I had to cut it blind at the back, trying to taper it but taking out big triangular chunks in the process. My mother kept going on about it and eventually sent me to get a repair job done at Delila’s, the cheapo hairdresser  that used to be The Singing Kettle before it got burned down. “Your dad used to get his hair cut there, ” she said, as if that made everything  all right.

It was a woman hairdresser. She tugged at some of the tufts sticking out at the back of my head. ” Someone’s been at this already, ” she said.

I mumbled that I’d done it myself.

” Ah, you’re one of those, ” she said. ” So. How do  you want it? ”

Ashamed, I told her just to tidy it up a bit.

” I’ll tidy it up for you, ” she said. ” No problem. I’ll tidy it up for you all right.”

I couldn’t bear to watch her progress in the mirror. Hair was cascading down the white cape thing I was wearing,  floating softly to the floor around my feet,  and there was no pause in the frantic snick-snick of her crazy scissors. I folded my arms and stared at the pink and blue bottles at the back of the circular basin, not letting a single thought squirm into my head until she had  finished.

“Well?” she said, holding a mirror up behind my head so that I could see in the mirror in front of me the full extent of her artistry. “What do you think?”

Munch 2

I managed not to cry till I got home.