Another Country

Miles driven: 650; time spent driving: a couple of weeks; coffees consumed: 25; fags consumed: 25; taxis paid for because late for school pick-up for Beloved Daughter: 1; new boyfriends attained: 0. 

MPG: 40!!! Result!!!

"We are from the same world, but inhabit very different countries."

I don't normally write personal stuff about any of you, because I don't want people to stop communicating with me in case I go public on them.   But honestly, this bloke has made me so cross that this time I am.

Like a total moron, having corresponded with him for hour after hour, week after week, writing all sorts of hilarious stuff especially for him that could easily have entertained all of you, my numerous, lovely, loyal readers who support me through thick and thin asking nothing in return, I drive six hours each way to see him, and two days later I get dumped by text without even a "but you are pretty", or "thank you for coming all this way"!!  I ask you!  AND I had stopped off en route for a quick spot of TK Maxx therapy, in Slough where I was born so don't be rude about it, but why on earth my mother couldnt have chosen Royal Windsor like she did for my siblings I will never know, and I have to admit to it on at least one form a month ... anyway, where was I?

So first I was hurt. Then I was a bit affronted.  But all the time I knew he had a point, which I think he expressed in a rather perceptive and condensed way, as opposed to a pretentious one. Which do you think it is? I have actually started using it myself, as a quick, easily understandable and not too rude way to fob off the 98% of inappropriate people who contact me via Encounters.

During our meeting, I had quietly admired his nicely ironed striped shirt, his shiny cufflinks, orange socks and light tan brogues.  I thought they matched my Golden Monster rather well.  And he was considerably taller and heavier than I am. I just love that.

So. Sigh. The thing is I belong everywhere and nowhere. I don't have a country. Anyone who isn't posh thinks I am.  And anyone who's genuinely posh knows I'm not. And there's no-mans land inbetween.  So I think this annoying bloke has hit it on the head in a sentence. 

My 'country' currently comprises a great deal of chat about private schools, swimming, riding, doing lunches, school run, watching children's matches and events; oh yes! And running a successful B&B business!

How do I provide time to make a man feel special in and amongst all of that?

Well - things could change big-time in the summer, when Dearly Beloved starts weekly boarding.

I may even have to give up Wydemeet and move. Or delegate more. Or become famous being interviewed all around the world about my amazing first book.  Or become some bloke's free housekeeper somewhere.

I would like to meet the right chap, and then think about it.

So we've done Pre-Historic.  We've done the Middle Ages.  Now we're onto,  say, Victorian times.  Or not so Victorian.  We will see. Bring on Volume 3!