The Subject Is Sex

I was brought up in a household that never mentioned sex ever ! 
It was a secretive unmentionable
Sex education , for what it was worth, was left to a banal 1970s school curiculum, discarding porn magazines found on the Prestatyn sandhills and playtime gossip.
But like most late baby boomers we got by somehow...despite everything.

I worked a shift at Samaritans last night until the small wee hours, and as uaual my collegue and I were on the recieving end of a score of sex calls . It's a shocking statistic , but it is common for the highly trained dedicated  SAM volunteers to be subjected to masturbating callers, sexual fantastists and others who feel they have no other outlet than calling a stranger, and blocking a helpline designed to help the psychologically distressed.
My colleague and I wondered just how many of our callers had upbringings where sex was secretative and dirty or who lived lives of sexual isolation and longing.

Now in my fifties, I think I have a healthy view of sex.
I do feel it is a private subject, but I am  no prude when it comes down to a bit of rumpy pumpy
I have worked as an advocate for sexual health with spinal cord injured men.
I have " counselled" and supported men with sexual dysfunction
And I have lived with a sexually lacivious bulldog for several years without too much blushing.

But I must admit, that at midnight after a long and busy day painting walls a rather sweet shade of apple green.
The breathless voice of a middleaged man  whispering the words " I'm touching myself through lace fronted panties"  left me all a bit cold!

 

No Painting, Mrs Simmons and Police Porn

It's lunchtime and still I have not got around to painting the remainder of the front room!
I was up at 5.30 taking the Prof to work in order to be around for 7 am ( the earliest time when the new fridge was being delivered)
It duly arrived around 10.30 and we had the usual performance from Winnie as the two delivery men were " encouraged" to make a fuss. One gave her a big kiss on the chops which sent her into paroxysms of delight........she's sulking now because no one else has knocked on the door!

So we have a fridge now......the Prof's life is no longer shite!
I've done some shopping and filled the fridge , then dropped Mary down the lane to Trendy Carol's house to play with her Welsh Terrier Bitch Seren ( see video)

I thought with Mary occupied I could then get on with painting unhindered.
Wrong! 
I had just reached the gate when I spied Mrs Simmons walking down the lane.
She waved for me to stop.
" Bob's gravestone has been put in the churchyard" she said " I wondered if you would come with me to see it?"
It had been a year since I read the eulogy at her husband's funeral service.
The stone and inscription on the gravestone was simple and fitting and I told Mrs Simmons that as we
Stood amid the graves looking at it.
She can talk the hind leg off a donkey can Mrs Simmons , so as nice as she is, I was glad to see police  personnel Ian and Jo walk up with their greyhound in tow for they took over the conversation nicely.

Anyhow speaking of the police, I was spoilt last night with a difficult choice of tv viewing/ radio listening. We had got back after a rather good Thai meal out when I realised that I had not see Bake off or listened to day three of Helen's trial in The Archers.
There was also a new reality cop show on sky ( The Force -Essex) to give the once over to
(The Prof always raises a Roger Moore eyebrow when reality cop shows come on the tv....he refers to my drooling addiction to men in uniform as Police Porn! ) ...oh.....and it was the Opening Ceremony of the Paralympics to watch.......so I was spoilt by choice.....
In the end I watched and listened to all four, so I didn't get to bed until the small hours.

And you wonder why I haven't lifted a paint brush up yet!?
I'm bloody knackered
Hey ho!

Student Mike leaves the bake off tent!  

But it was Tom who made a loaf in the shape of a penis!

Big bearded cops in Essex..what's pornagraphic about that? 

Yuk yuk

I recognised two of the  team GB wheelchair competitors 

From my spinal injury days

Order And Chaos

For the first time in an absolute age I looked after a sedated and ventilated poorly patient last night.
It was a huge change from the rough and  tumble of caring for a personality disordered, confused and violent post op patient or an over stimulated  autistic boy with a new tracheostomy.
Ventilated patients with all of the pumps and gizmo's that go with the seriously ill have to be nursed with strict orderliness and discipline.
It was nice to be so disciplined ..it was all very Zen.

It's not like that at home at the moment.
I'm in the middle of decorating , and the front room looks likes a bombs hit it, what with furniture piled high in the centre of the room.

The Prof had left the dogs have the run of the house when he left for work earlier and Mary had emptied the airing cupboard of its contents, scattering linens across the landing
Oh and I noticed that old William had backing into my one freshly painted wall by the stairs and had left a sloppy turd out in full view after being home but a couple of minutes
I left everything where it lay, filled my American coffee cup with blissfully hot strong coffee and took myself off to the field which was bathed in warm, early morning sunshine.
There , in full view of the road, I lay down amid the sheep, hens and geese and just gazed up at the clouds in the soft blue sky.
There is No mess and disorder in skywatching.

Trial

This week, it's the trial !
The Middle England  collective are all putting down their supper dishes and are pouring glasses of a nice red in readiness  for the vapid Helen Titchner to give her evidence in her trial for stabbing the moustache twirling Rob .
The Rob/ Helen storyline of the radio 4 show The Archers is now drawing to a close......I've just listened to the " rape revelation" while waiting to do an extra shift at work!
The coffee room was silent listening to the drama of it all!

What The Hell?

 I just grabbed a clean T shift from the knicker drawer last night

I didn't notice which one, I was tired , I'd been decorating all day.

This morning I had a rather odd conversation with Basil the farmer

who was too poite to ask about it,

But his eyes kept dropping down to my front! 

In a " what the hell?" Kind of way

Traffic Lights and A Fat Vagina

For years the village school children have run the risk of being splattered by speeding drivers on the village's one and only zebra crossing.
Readers of Going Gently may also remember that I have had several " near miss events" crossing the road with the dogs, one which necessitated  flinging a bag of dog shit into the back of a careless van driver .
Such is life.
Now, for weeks in Trelawnyd, we have suffered a gaggle of over weight workmen who have seemed to be up to very little on the main road, outside the school.
Traffic has been disrupted by a temporary three way traffic light system, and Winnie has been transported into a state of permanent " moistness" by the fact that at least four blue collar workmen have been wolfwhistling her on a daily basis!
They just thought that  the old gal was being friendly , but only I knew just how much of a let down she was, as she merrily waved her fat vagina at them from the pavement.
Anyhow, the upshot of all this activity, is that now Trelawnyd has it's very own Pelican crossing! 
We now have a pedestrian controlled push button traffic light system complete with sound alarm ( for the visually impaired! ) and my claim to fame was that the dogs and I were the very first residents of Trelawnyd to have the privilege to use it!
How exciting!
Affable despot Jason was second in line for a button press and I am sure I spied Mrs Trellis giving the control box the once over before we left for home, but the real fun testing time for the bastard speeders  will be this morning when the school children return for the Autumn term and scores of fat little fingers will reclaim the road once again!

Ta Muchly

Thank you all for all of your comments, I have had so many that my blogger page has not downloaded them all, but rest assured that I have read all of the comments in my settings folder and have enjoyed them all
The post had it's desired effect......my 243rd comment
Was as follows

You Fucking Smug Bastard Petra on Audit Time Remove content | Delete | Spam

Anonymous

at 22:44

Thats an end to it all

Audit Time

Putrid Petra and her acid tongue brought up one interesting point as she poured vitriol upon the readers of Going Gently and that was her very own assessment on it's demographic
As she saw it, my " fan base" runs in a very linear way,and I quote

Anonymous4:31 pm

I am not envious in any way Jon, I just find Going Gently rather too sugary and at times a touch false for my tastes.
It panders to an audience of middle aged, sad women, as far as I can tell, oh with the occassional gay man thrown in to balance the books as well as the usual handful of drunks that blogging seems to attract nowadays. ( ring any bells Jon? )
I am anonymous because I am allowed to be.
But if you want to know my name, I am happy to share it.

This post both insulted and amused me , as quite cleverly it insulted most of my readers without pausing to catch breath. I noted that particular bile was centred on long term reader Anne Marie who she referred to as a " cat owning fag hag"
Anne Marie had her very own way of dealing with the issue

TexasTrailerParkTrash4:33 pm

What a thoughtful, kind person you are, John.

ReplyDelete

Replies

1. 
   Anonymous4:58 pm

   Pandering again to a needy ego!
   I feel nauseous
   
   Petra

   Delete
2. 
   anne marie in philly10:14 pm

   then go puke somewhere else, bitch!

   Delete
3. 
   Cottontail Farm2:28 am

   Oh, Anne, I laughed out loud. Love it.

   Delete

anne marie in philly12:22 pm

we philadelphians tell it like it is. and NO ONE talks trash about one of my friends!

Delete

This made me cackle with amusement

All this bad humour has been somewhat interesting . I have  more female readers cos blogging is populated more by female writers and readers. Plain and simple. 

They are not sad, pussy owning fag hags with a need for a gay best friend nor are they drunks or balance making queens, even though a few must exist here....like they do anywhere

So what I am asking 

Tell me your demographic ? 

Age? Sex? Gender? Alcohol status? Knicker size? 

Let's see if the old cow was right! Tee hee!