Tuesday telephone ping – very first thing
My mate Fred who calls me ‘Ginger’ PINGS me. He tells me that this is the last PING I will receive from him because he has given up his passé Crackberry for an eye-catching new number.
I sigh. How sad to lose a BBM correspondent. But then Fred has only really been interested in my instant messages when I can tell him – in real time - about some of the extraordinary meetings I attend. Fred never seems to be able to attend these. He always uses as an excuse that he is being whipped. It crosses my mind that we may be talking at cross purposes but I never like to enquire as I fear that he may give me more information than I want to hear.
Between Fred and the Phillimore Firecracker and her S&M lifestyle, I wonder whether I am missing out on something. I think about raising the humdrum of our conjugal felicity with long suffering husband but decide I am happy with our S&M-and-whipping-free-virtual-ménage- à-trois which he, I and Jeremy/Gavin/Andrew enjoy occasionally as we drop off to sleep together. However I would give up each and everyone of those companions any night of the week (apart of course from long suffering husband) for my all-time fave page 3 visitor who beams into our bedroom, of whom I never tire, who always perks me up, who can make any subject shamelessly tacky, who leads me through the cut and thrust of the headlines and the throb of the next day’s news, Kelvin. Kelvin sometimes addresses me as “the viewer” straight to camera, as his intercourse with me is filmed. I (and long suffering husband if he is still awake) may be Kelvin’s only voyeur but at least, if he ever reads this, he should know that there is some body satisfied with his performance.
Fred writes that his sources have told him that I am going away with Mr Big, and wonders if this can possibly be true. Can Fred be jealous? I wonder how Fred can know about my foreign affair when, so far, I have only divulged that I am cycling 270kms to Brussels to long suffering husband and the Phillimore Firecracker. It transpires that he has met Mr Big at the harbour who was bragging about his conquest.
Very worried about this. Mr Big has implied that I am a saddo for not knowing 10,000 people who can each contribute £1 to sponsor me, and yet the only person he and Fred have found in common to speak about that morning is me. Could it be that there aren’t 100 cyclists going on this ride? Could it be that there is only Mr Big and me? I remember with relief that the Phillimore Firecracker has also been roped in and that Mr Big has shown me a sparkly new bicycle bought for his top model wife, Mrs B. Has no-one else been mad enough to agree to this challenge? Shouldn’t there be a Facebook page with photos of lots of Beautiful People?
Fred tells me that, notwithstanding the loveliness of my company, he has said NO to the trip and asks why I haven’t done the same. I tell Fred that I too have said NO to Mr Big. I don’t think he believes me, and he texts back that I should speak louder next time.
I wonder how we will have silent chats like this without BBM, and sigh again.
At the date of posting Fred tells me he hasn’t had the time to read this blog or to follow my twitter (http://twitter.com/downwardcycle - the fact that I have got my head round how to tweet gives you some idea of the lengths to which I am going to raise money for the two charities, JDRF and the Red Cross – not that I have understood the point of twittering**). You, dear reader, have clearly seen my blog – now try my twaddle.
** I have been told that I can tweet my progress minute by minute (?!) on the three day three country ordeal from my mobile if I learn to cycle hands-free between now and September 24. It occurs to me that this might be too much of a good thing - but all suggestions/comments will be gratefully received.
My mate Fred who calls me ‘Ginger’ PINGS me. He tells me that this is the last PING I will receive from him because he has given up his passé Crackberry for an eye-catching new number.
I sigh. How sad to lose a BBM correspondent. But then Fred has only really been interested in my instant messages when I can tell him – in real time - about some of the extraordinary meetings I attend. Fred never seems to be able to attend these. He always uses as an excuse that he is being whipped. It crosses my mind that we may be talking at cross purposes but I never like to enquire as I fear that he may give me more information than I want to hear.
Between Fred and the Phillimore Firecracker and her S&M lifestyle, I wonder whether I am missing out on something. I think about raising the humdrum of our conjugal felicity with long suffering husband but decide I am happy with our S&M-and-whipping-free-virtual-ménage- à-trois which he, I and Jeremy/Gavin/Andrew enjoy occasionally as we drop off to sleep together. However I would give up each and everyone of those companions any night of the week (apart of course from long suffering husband) for my all-time fave page 3 visitor who beams into our bedroom, of whom I never tire, who always perks me up, who can make any subject shamelessly tacky, who leads me through the cut and thrust of the headlines and the throb of the next day’s news, Kelvin. Kelvin sometimes addresses me as “the viewer” straight to camera, as his intercourse with me is filmed. I (and long suffering husband if he is still awake) may be Kelvin’s only voyeur but at least, if he ever reads this, he should know that there is some body satisfied with his performance.
Fred writes that his sources have told him that I am going away with Mr Big, and wonders if this can possibly be true. Can Fred be jealous? I wonder how Fred can know about my foreign affair when, so far, I have only divulged that I am cycling 270kms to Brussels to long suffering husband and the Phillimore Firecracker. It transpires that he has met Mr Big at the harbour who was bragging about his conquest.
Very worried about this. Mr Big has implied that I am a saddo for not knowing 10,000 people who can each contribute £1 to sponsor me, and yet the only person he and Fred have found in common to speak about that morning is me. Could it be that there aren’t 100 cyclists going on this ride? Could it be that there is only Mr Big and me? I remember with relief that the Phillimore Firecracker has also been roped in and that Mr Big has shown me a sparkly new bicycle bought for his top model wife, Mrs B. Has no-one else been mad enough to agree to this challenge? Shouldn’t there be a Facebook page with photos of lots of Beautiful People?
Fred tells me that, notwithstanding the loveliness of my company, he has said NO to the trip and asks why I haven’t done the same. I tell Fred that I too have said NO to Mr Big. I don’t think he believes me, and he texts back that I should speak louder next time.
I wonder how we will have silent chats like this without BBM, and sigh again.
At the date of posting Fred tells me he hasn’t had the time to read this blog or to follow my twitter (http://twitter.com/downwardcycle - the fact that I have got my head round how to tweet gives you some idea of the lengths to which I am going to raise money for the two charities, JDRF and the Red Cross – not that I have understood the point of twittering**). You, dear reader, have clearly seen my blog – now try my twaddle.
** I have been told that I can tweet my progress minute by minute (?!) on the three day three country ordeal from my mobile if I learn to cycle hands-free between now and September 24. It occurs to me that this might be too much of a good thing - but all suggestions/comments will be gratefully received.
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