The love shack.

Apart from myself there have been approximately a half-dozen others who have seen my wife naked. Worse yet, we all live in the same town!

Still, time is the great healer. It doesn’t bother me so much now. It doesn’t bother her in the slightest.

We were a young couple. Newly married. Twenty-two years a piece. Mad for each other.

For the first two years of marriage we rented a small house while we saved for the deposit on our current home. It was a perfect little love nest. I have photos somewhere but I found this one online. You can see the cottage and its proximity to the beach.

The love shack, baby!

The love shack, baby!

The cottage is very old, in fact there was a ghost which used to whisper at times. True! But that didn’t bother us because we were too busy with each other, you know, exorcising our inhibitions.

Then one day…Crash!…Splash! The water tank in the attic gave up its own ghost. It was one of the older galvanised tanks, unlike the newer plastic versions. Anyway, it had rusted through, dumping its load. The ceiling gave way and drenched all below. Nether of us were in at the time and it wasn’t until hours later when we arrived back from work that we made the discovery.

The cottage owner was very helpful. He gave us the keys to another, more modern, holiday chalet in the neighbourhood while he got the old cottage fixed up.

On the Saturday night we went out with friends for a few beers and a spot of dancing. Bear in mind we were still young.

Upon returning, nature took its course. Just like the movies there was a trail of clothing from the front door to the bedroom door. Enough said.

The next morning we just lay there recalling how much fun we’d had with our friends at the disco. Well we laughed and snuggled and chatted until I could hold it no longer. I had one in the barrel and it was high time to let it go.

So up I get and scurry to the bedroom door in a panic. I reached for the doorknob and it came off in my hand! This was bad!! The door was hinged to open inwards. I tried refitting and turning it slowly but it was no use; the door was a very tight fit in the door frame, maybe because the house was rarely occupied.

Needless to say my wife was in stitches. No compassion there. Not even a waste paper basket in the room. Yes, if there had been I would have went in it. Image is nothing, in a situation like this!

Her laughing slowed when she realised that all our clothes were on the other side of the door. Her laughing stopped when she had to wriggle out the window. I didn’t give her time to mull it over. By now, I was in countdown mode. The idea was that she would enter through the front door and, once inside, open the bedroom door from the inside. Good job it was a bungalow.

But then. “Look Daddy, look! That woman has a bare bum.”

I stuck my head out the window. There was a family next door having breakfast outside. Lovely! Both parents and the two children stared as my wife picked herself up and ran off around the side of the house. Not only that but there was a couple out walking their spotted dalmatians who had also stopped to feast their eyes. Being totally honest, at that moment, I didn’t care what they thought. I just needed to go, so so badly.

It came to pass, the plan worked. The relief was Biblical!

A day or two later we were back in the Love Shack. A week or two later, the townsfolk found someone else’s wife to talk about.

The first thing I did when we bought our own house…I planted a hedge. Because as we all know, those who forget their history are destined to repeat it.

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All aboard!

All aboard!


Have you ever stood beside a railway track and marveled at the work that went into building it? I am sure you have.

The thing about railway tracks is that they aren’t in your face like most structures. They stay grounded. They don’t demand attention.

The pattern of the sleepers stays the same from A to Z.

I wonder if I were to remove a sleeper, using a chain saw or whatever, would it be catastrophic?

It might well prove to be, if for instance that particular  sleeper was at a critical joining point between two rail sections. The shockwave would reverberate to the next sleeper, and the next, and so on until eventually all sleepers would be shaken, and less than sound.

There is a common piece of advice offered to young, newly married couples around the world. I have heard this piece of advice numerous times, at weddings, in movies, in books etc.

“Never go to sleep without first sorting out any disagreements between yourselves. ”

That advice is pretty good for any person, single or married.

I remember one time I was a bit upset with somebody. I let them know how I felt. I went to sleep and when I awoke the person was dead.

It took a long long time to sleep properly after that. My final words to the person haunted me for a long time. I have served my sentence.

I’m hunky dory now! As you can tell.

So my advice on sleeping is simple. Make peace before you close your eyes. A clear mind is better than any sleeping drug.

A railway track looks pretty boring when it’s  finished. But I like to imagine the thing being built. People, even with their differences of opinion, working together making their way forward to the final destination. And a good night’s sleep at the end of each day.


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In response to

The one

The one

Attention Moderators! Could we get somebody down the prompt department ASAP! And bring a bucket of water.


“Tell us about your love life,” she says.  I wouldn’t even tell my wife about my love life!

Besides, there’s no point. It’s all been told before. And told better. With images of flowers in fields. Or waves lapping the shoreline. Or the sun setting on the horizon. Or little birds landing on shoulders. Or Monkeys jumping from one tree to the next.

Well WordPress, I can’t do poetry!!

You must understand, I’m not the sort of chap who can look at a tree and see something other than a tree. To me a tree is a tree, a flower is a flower, the sea is the sea, and a fluffy white cloud is just a by-product of evaporation, a mass of condensed water vapour floating in the sky.

Beneath this outer shell of chiseled male perfection is just an ordinary everyday man who knows what he likes when he sees it.

He doesn’t look at his ladies and go “How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.” No he looks at her and says “Woah! She’s alright.” Not out loud, you understand.

If she has the same effect a few weeks later then it’s love. Pure, raw, uncensored love! And after a year or more, if he can picture himself when he’s old, and grey (but still handsome)  enjoying her company then she’s probably the one. Put a ring on it!

Maybe kids will come along and help hold the thing together. Either way, it’s not the end of the world. It’s only Love

Thank you for reading