lovely story Jem keep em coming or is that it? men sharing romance stories can’t beat it!
Well back to my first love - no special features - slightly overweight but I was smitten I must admit. We met at church of course - I was in the local Boys Brigade. However her extremely overweight mother had other plans she wanted her daughter to marry a farmer gentle lad who lived in the next field!
I remember letting her bicycle tire down one week as she rode everywhere in the village - but even that didn’t stop here - her older sister had a quick word with me one night - sorry she said she can’t see you tonight gumbud - you are a real nice guy and deserve better - do you think it was my name that did it?
such is village life!
Great tales lads. Pug step up to the podium your next.
Wouldn’t it be nice to hear from a few ladies, the other side of the coin so to speak.
Ok…I am summoned to the podium to relate memories of my first love.
T’was Philamena Molloy…a name I still think,rather than say. Mere uttered syllables detract from and cannot ever hope to achieve,the glorious,tongue-tied,mesmerising radiance that was Philamena Molloy. I was 13 and living in a convent [yes,it IS true] Philamena lived in a huge mansion in the convent’s grounds,as her father was estate manager or some such thing. When Philamena smiled,eternity shrivelled,dwindling into a tiny encapsulated space/time in which the only reality was knowing that smile was for me. We made dens out of bales,climbed trees,swam in rivers,made swings of vines. I showed her how to make catapults-she showed me her knickers. Life can offer no better experience than the time Philamena Molloy kissed me…I stood,totally stationary,unable and unwilling to move,lest the magic dissipate,lest the moment fade. I have known Paradise. Nothing in this life will or can surpass those times,that strange affliction to which I was a willing subjugate.
Oh Death,where is thy sting…
I think it’s amazing how things like that stick in the mind and always bring a glow of satisfaction to us when reflected on. Young miss Molloy sure sounds like a cracker Pug.
I suppose Spitfire fell for a Harrier named Harriet, or a Hurricane called Hilda?
Good times gents, forum life moves on to the next chapter and…‘The first time’
I’m not allowed to talk about my first love as forum life is indeed complex.
Perhaps ‘not allowed’ is a bit strong: ‘advisable’ would be more appropriate I reckon.
Ok OGF off you go and don’t spare the juicy bits!
[CENTER]The Family Coil[/CENTER]
Once you’ve broke the family coil
There is no going back
The coil will only stretch so far
Then you’re on your own fast track
You’re in uncharted oceans
Sailing on from port to port
Buying strange exotic bangles
Landing on some other shore
The wandering sailor may return
With his tales of other lives
But the sea will keep on calling
To return to other skies
And so the die is cast once more
You’ve left your port and home and law
There’s few return to take up slack
The rule is “there’s no turning back”
© Gumbud
I know I shouldn’t but: someone who shall remain nameless left a frying pan of lamb chop dripping out last night. So I couldn’t resist two wee morsels of vienna bread slices toasted and spread with the dripping [plus gravy spots] - sprinkled with a light coat of sea salt - and you know it tasted just the same as the stuff I had as a kid of 5yrs - perhaps that’s why I’m still here?
and then as I was already on the road to hell I hacked into Bergader Edelpiltz - classic blue piccante on nothing but the knife and my tongue - what a way to go!:twisted:
ps: I feel a glass or two of Pims No1 coming on
…and once you’ve sailed those oceans deep
as captain of your self-built craft,
you’ll find yourself oft looking forr’d
and very rarely aft.
For forr’d’s where adventure lies
unknown,anticipated.
Aft is where memories are kept,
of time now spent,though not outdated.
So,when lands metaphorical
hove finally into view,
it’s time once more to tie alongside
and try out something new.
.
In the words of Rex Harrison in “my Fair Lady” " by Jove I think he’s got it - by Jove I think he’s got it" welcome to the true poets club Pug - RJ will place on the sash! then we’ll all sing ‘for he’s a joly good bellow’
……………And once you get to end of world
Where to next I hear your hurl
Yes we’ve come full circle, out of gas
But coming home there’s empty grass………………
Pug dear fellow I think you’ve got the gist can you give it one more twist?
I spent an inordinate amount of time, wedging the Window of opportunity open.
wedged windows are usually a failure in themselves?
I have spent an inordinate amount of time gazing at the glass, and not the view outside…But since retiring I have wiped the window of life clean and become inspired by the view beyond…
Now the world is my whelk; or some such mollusc…
A man that looks on glass,
On it may stay his eye;
Or if he pleaseth, through it pass,
And then the heav’n espy.
© George Herbert
from the original The Elexir
Hunger and the lack of sleep prevented me from completing my account, but here’s something to whet your appetite…
THE FIRST TIME
Dave was my best mate, and we were inseparable, I would call round to his house most evenings and we would hit the village streets in search of adventure. But one particular night will stay in my memory for ever.
We were both fifteen and in our last few weeks at school, it was Dave’s sixteenth birthday and his mum had invited me round for tea and a bit of a celebration. His mum and dad had divorced over a year ago and his dad had gone to live some distance away, where he ran a small business producing wrought iron gates. He had always wanted Dave to join him after he left school, and perhaps one day take the reigns.
It was a hot evening at the end of June and dressed in my best shorts and tee shirt I cycled the two miles to Dave’s house. His mum answered the door, she was an auburn haired goddess, the setting sun streamed over my shoulder and reflected off her hair making it difficult to see the detail in her face. A maroon pinafore mini dress clung to her petite body and sort of flared out from below her waist to expose her very shapely legs, although in her late thirties she could still pass for a twenty year old, I seem to recall Dave telling me she had been a good sprinter in her younger day. As she turned and made her way into the lounge, she gestured for me to follow with a cheeky little curl of her index finger, her high heels emphasised her toned calf muscles and made us about the same height, I turned to close the door and followed her down the hall.
Perfume filled my nostrils as I clung to a screwed up carrier bag containing Dave’s card and present. I entered the lounge and was met by a neatly laid table adorned with all manor of party food and a large iced cake with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written in pink icing on the top. Dave’s mum positioned herself at the head of the table and waved her hand over the beautiful display, she was so proud of her creation, but the smile on her face turned to despair and she flopped herself down into an armchair revealing her athletic thighs as her dress rode up. She made no attempt to cover the expanse of flesh that I could hardly take my eyes off, my face became hot and I felt embarrassed as my glance met hers “Where’s Dave?” I managed to splutter out; she pulled out a handkerchief and after dabbing her tear filled eyes replied.
“His dad turned up unexpectedly and asked if it was alright to take him away for the night so he could give him his Birthday present first thing in the morning; a ride along the Yorkshire Coast in a Helicopter, but it had to be an early start, hence the overnight stay” she took a sharp intake of breath and continued “What could I say except, of course, it would be every boys dream” I turned away and muttered “I’d better go then Mrs Atkinson, would you give this to Dave when he gets back” I deposited the screwed up carrier bag on to the table and turned to leave.
Dave’s mum rose from the chair and said “If you’d like to help me eat some of this food I’ve prepared, at least not all of it will go to waste” I glanced back into her expectant eyes and replied “ Well I am very hungry, and I’ve hardly eaten anything all day, saving myself for Dave’s party, that would be very nice Mrs Atkinson thank you” “Oh, call me Maureen” she exclaimed “Lets not have any of this Mrs Atkinson nonsense” With that she bounced off into the kitchen, “Will tea be okay Robert?” she shouted from the next room “Yes, that will be just fine Mrs…er…Maureen”
no wonder ya still running OGF and still looking for her again heh?
Once there was a Linesman who thought he was a Referee, there was a battle, was the Flag mightier then the Whistle?