Wednesday, 13 July 2016

Let's talk about sex...

The husband is mourning the loss of his trailer, which was stolen over the weekend.  Having hit social media (my facebook page) with posts asking for information, he has now offered a reward for the return of said trailer.  I do hope that he's not the victim of any hoax with regard to this reward.  I can just picture some undesirable taking advantage of his broken heart, passing off some other trailer as the one which was stolen.  Only for the husband to hand over the reward and then later find out that his trailer is an interloper, and that he has been polishing and servicing a stranger for the past three weeks.  Time will tell.

Talking of servicing strangers, I have really been enjoying the new series 'Brief Encounter'.   This is one of those programmes which really shouldn't be watched with your older children or your husband.  For those of you who have yet to catch up, or who live across various wide stretches of water, it's all about the start of the Ann Summers phenomena in the 1980's.  The music's great in it, which is good as it's the only bit the husband can relate to as he sits there looking slightly nervous, too scared to look me fully in the eye in case I suggest something. 

Son number one, who worryingly hasn't missed an episode as yet, laughs more heartily and frequently, causing the husband to often ask, 'How do you know what that's for? You're only 21.  I never knew what that was for when I was 21'.   Let's be honest, 32 years later, he probably still doesn't...

I have fond memories of these parties in the late 80's.  It was really just a damn fine excuse to get together with all your girly friends, drink cheap white wine, and talk about the inadequacies of your boyfriend, whilst spending money on cheap nonsense and knickers made of cheap, scratchy lace.  These never had enough stretch in them for me I'm afraid.  Although Ann Summers liked to label them size 14 or size 16, the elastic seemed to stretch as far as a size 12 before cutting into your skin, stopping your circulation and leaving a deep groove around the hips - I certainly never looked like the girls in the catalogue, that's for sure.  I think the best seller at most of the parties was a knitted willy warmer, with Dumbo ears and a substantial trunk, which just goes to show how seriously us girls took all this.  Surprisingly, these were all one size....

Of course, there were the outfits and obligatory 'ice-breaking' games.  I can remember playing a game which involved some post-it notes and being called Wilma Whiplash (Miss R still calls me this on occasions). A party held at Miss R's house around 1984 was a night I'll never forget.  Miss R, ever happy to oblige, had gone upstairs to pop something on to give us girls an idea of what it looked like.  She was gone ages.  Eventually surfacing twenty minutes later, red faced and sweating like she'd run a marathon, she was concerned at how small the neck opening was for the top, and more to the point, how she was going to get it off again.

The Ann Summers demonstrator, almost choked on her glass of Blue Nun, and explained that this wasn't a bra top, but something else altogether.  This was the cue for questioning looks between us girls, most of whom had led a fairly sheltered life up till then.  What on earth was it then?

A pair of knickers with the undercarriage missing apparently.... Just as well Miss R hadn't backcombed her hair that night, she might have had to have been cut out of them.  As it was, it took three of us and a bottle of strawberry massage oil to prise her out of it.  She was really embarrassed, but she did smell lovely for the rest of the evening.

I am sure that things have moved on at Ann Summers, but it does seem to have gone all a bit 50 Shades if the shop windows are anything to go by. 

So if it's all right with you, I'd rather stick to my pyjamas - at least I know there won't be any suspicious drafts...
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