Saturday, 7 February 2009

Drink, Snow, Sex, Power, Thanks, Moonlight, Bogart, Pagination, etc...

A few vague honesties.

When off the pills, I would say it would be fair comment to declare that on certain weeks I like to have a drink. I can't get a single doctor or pyschiatrist to tell me I have a problem, so perhaps I don't? But anyway, sometimes I do drink a bottle of wine with the missus, and if I'm a really, really lucky boy, there might be some whisky lurking in the house for a nightcap. Anyway, the weather here in the Cotswolds is bloody cold. A stack more snow, and now it's all frozen and set to be so for the next five days or so. Black ice everywhere. Car driving is 'possible' but not prudent. No, I still haven't got my licence back yet...

[New paragraph] ... but one of these days surely! How 'mixed' can one be for being roughly sane? They've had it for over a year now. The BASTARDS!!. I repeat: THE BASTARDS AT THE DVLA!!!! Hmm - that'll increase the google hits. Anyway, we've been semi-stranded, and it's such an irritation to me, after being obviously the mover and shaker and the doer and the I'm-going-here-er, and the got-the-new-contract-er, and the everything-else-er (apart from having three babies!) for the last few years, and I can't even drive the car 3 miles to the bloody shops...

[New paragraph] ... which really does my head in. Perhaps a male thing? Loss of power, potency, and speaking of which, guess what was the secondmost important factor in giving up the Depakote this time round? Yeah... like a limp strip of soggy clay. The foremost factor was just simply my wife and children really didn't like the stranger that was dozing on the sofa all night and day. But as for the anorgasmia - it's no joke - it all gets hard work and boring after a few hours. And then the anorgasmia began to turn into the old favourite: FLOPPIDONG! I must hasten to add, this was a novel experience for me. Even when depressed that part would work when cajoled. And don't ask about when I was up. I'm sure you can guess. A while back I posted something, then deleted...

[New paragraph] ... because it was too crude, and cacophonated too much of blowing one's own trumpet - hmm - no, I'm not a contortionist, the statement was metaphorical - anyway, put it this way, the refractory period vanishes. What have I covered so far? Drink, snow, sex, power, what's next? Thanks. Oh yes! Thanks to LOOPYKATE for a glowing review on blogged.com. I should have put this at the top, but I'll highlight it in glowing colours. Moonlight? Oh yes...

[New paragraph] ... after living in the sticks for four and a half years, I realised I'd never walked to the nearest town. Realising we were 'snowed in', or iced-in would be more precise, I set off under the moonlight through the snow. It was gorgeous. I really needed to let off steam with some hard exercise after looking after all the kids while K got some sleep all afternoon - and by god they were getting stir crazy too - but the baby etc... and the cold freezing wind, and the boys wouldn't go out and play in the garden, so... Anyway. Stomping six miles cross-country through the thick snow provided the exercise. I managed the round trip in...

[New paragraph] ... two and a half hours, which included mooching around the supermarket for half an hour. So not such bad going. Was haunted by the idea as I walked that I wouldn't have thought twice about doing it in my early twenties, but as age creeps up, society expects different behaviour from it's trammelled, flogged and shackled minions. Shame at bucking convention swells with age. (That said, simple fear at having one's head blown off by a poacher at night comes fairly high on the list - sounds like the Somme around here after dark all year round. THAT IS AN EXAGGERATION!) Got back...

[New paragraph] ...and we watched In A Lonely Place - I agree, perhaps Bogie's finest hour. Oh well, plenty of horrendous stuff for embarrassment here, but I feel perfectly in the mood for handling embarrassment tonight. I say this knowing that various family members and friends drop in from time to time.

Keep safe one and all. D x

P.S. Just been outside for a ciggy. The owls are hooting like mournful souls frozen in the deepest pit of hell. The moon - O fickle mistress - gleams with ghastly come-hitherness on the snow. The snow has begun to turn to the southern-english version of néve. A gorgeous night, in other words. Perfect for Gerald at the end of Women in Love if this was the Alps.

11 comments:

themadandwild said...

I know how you feel with the soggy lump of clay. Last time I had the opportunity I couldn't get it up.

Abysmal Musings said...

Try attaching handles to mugs - they sag like the proverbial!

Gianna said...

well that was a delightful surprise after warning us we wouldn't be seeing much of you...

I would drink if I could...mmm what I'd do to be able to enjoy a shot of whiskey like in the old days...

(my poor body tolerates NOTHING that is considered marginally bad for you...and I hate it!!)

I hope to god my health improves enough that I can once again enjoy a beer or a shot of whiskey some day.

Mandy said...

Hi D

Floppidong! I have heard some terms for that state of non compliance but Floppidong...Ha!

As a woman I don't suffer floppidong but am a woman who hasn't been 'in the mood' for love for long time.

I don't know whether it is true that woman need more stimulation or to feel special or whatever the latest research has come up with on the similarities/differences between the sexes when it comes to sex but my libido has taken a nose dive to the South Pole.

On so called 'highs', and too long back now to rememember finer details (which I wouldn't share anyway) my libido would be up there with the rest of me.

Although there was something fun about the great outdoors and I didn't have to worry about minor issues such as hyperthermia. Not that I even thought about hyperthermia...the moment was all then. And there was something to be said for that.

Take care there

LoopyKate said...

I was in a similar situation to you for 5 years (I don't mean the floppydong of course) in that I lived in an old farmhouse in SW France, 5km from the nearest shop and without the car most days (and home alone with babe). I seem to remember walking about 25km a day with babe on back. My god was I fit (also memorised the name, location, seasonality and habit of every wild plant in the environs).
The positive of that existence was that any episodes of 'mania' went mostly unnoticed (including by myself). We had a 60ft barn with rope swings etc, trees to climb, hills to cavort up, lake to swim in not to mention a young child to 'entertain'.I was convinced every excess of energy came from the diet of home grown veg and donated local pigeons. And if I really needed an 'outlet', there was always the 50kg sacks of cement to shift or several cubic metres of wood to chop. I could even do all this in bare feet and nowt but a pair of grubby knickers if I fancied (and frequently did). Motto being: 'Cure' for both madness and alcoholism - emigrate to the hinterlands of southern Europe. To be any other way would be regarded with deep suspicion (and at risk of becoming target for stray bullets) - and, at the very worst, open to accusations of being a 'Parisienne'.
Just a thought. But I do emphasize with your 'confinement'. When it's forced on you, it's bound to be resented.
Thankyou for the thankyou btw.It seems only right that I 'upgrade' your blog with all those stingy editors giving us measely 7's!
K.x

Lola Snow said...

***Still giggling***

Floppydong :)

La-reve said...

Enjoy your drink in moderation. Sorry about the Floppidong ;-)

Hannah said...

I am sniggering like a school girl!
Floppydongs and limp strips of soggy clay teeehee!

of course it could be worse....

"Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame
That at the whisper of Love's name,
Or Beauty's, presto! up you raise
Your angry head and stand at gaze?"

Funny the poems that stick in one's mind!

Abysmal Musings said...

That's Robert Graves if I remember rightly?

Hannah said...

Indeed it is :0)

Abysmal Musings said...

Just another thought that occurred to me: the old floppidong is a side-effect that doesn't seem to cut any ice with the mental specialists. There seems to be a sense that good sex is a bonus, not a right. After eighteen years of practice, I'd say the side-effect-induced removal of one of our marital artforms is a fucking crime.

Anyway, things are back to normal now. As Spike used to quip: "Is anything worn under the kilt?" "No, it's all in perfect working order."

Thanks for all the comments - they made me smile.