Muses of a Nutty Woman

Friends visited me this weekend to catch up on the plethora of news that abounded from both sides. A good time was had by all, no wine was imbibed but the tea, coffee and chocolate stores were much depleted.

Inevitably, as always happens when we meet, the story of the Gloucester Docks Warehouse incident was mulled over with much laughter, particularly as this was the first time that my 12 year old daughter had been made aware of our exploits, hence her reactions and incredulity added to the hilarity.

Sue had decided that she wished to view the apartments in the nearly renovated Docks Warehouses and dragged me willingly along for the ride. The Estate Agent, with whom we were to have a accompanied viewing with, predictably, was extremely late. Whilst wiling away the time, for some reason that neither of us can remember, we decided to pretend we were lesbian lovers buying our first home together. Unfortunately the eventual advent of a fresh faced youth with the bare beginnings of fluff on his cheeks to show us around, only added to the resolve to wind him up totally and completely.

We managed – god knows how – to keep straight faces as we wandered around the admittedly very attractive buildings and conversions. We discussed the merits of our new rather large bed and whether the leather accoutrements would fit into the small spaces, we touched each other arms, held hands and gazed lovingly into each others eyes to the total discomfort of the poor, increasingly red faced, young Estate Agent. The final indignity for him was in the basement where all owners had an allocated caged space in which could be stored a variety of large articles.

It just had to be done……. Sue was, and is, a fulsome lady, with a bosom with which many ships could be launched, put that together with a love of motorbikes and the leather safety gear that is an integral part of serious biking and the caged areas in the basement………………… ummmmm. The Estate Agent couldn’t get out of there quick enough. We managed to keep straight faces only until he disappeared out of sight, although I suspect he could still hear the total hysteria and breakdown that erupted from both Sue and I, as we collapsed in a heap on the edge of the docks unable to move as the effort of maintaining the pretence pushed us both over the edge.

My lovely visitors left me with a challenge – they have never been to a Barn Dance and were disparaging about the benefits of attending one. After my protestations of how much fun they can be, a request was made that I should find a traditional full blown Barn Dance, one with callers, live music, plenty of cider and pasties for us all to enjoy.

Anybody else want to join us?!

Jeff – Jeff is from Friends Re-united Dating dot com. He describes himself as: ‘Jeff5470. I am a 43 year old divorced man with dark brown hair and blue eyes. I am 5 ft 11 tall slim, living in Ringwood’. For those of you for whom geography is a subject that was consigned to the bin as a fourteen year old (to which group I include myself), Ringwood is in the New Forest. Guessed yet?

Amongst the hilarity of the evening in the pub was the question of ‘shall we go and see what Jeff is really like?’. I had been chatting occasionally to Jeff over the past weeks and had indicated that a group of unruly women could descend on the pub in which he works. However, the option of a bottle or two of wine in Foxfield House won out and Jeff was kicked into touch.

Having driven home the option of sussing out Jeff was put out of my mind completely. However this was not the case for Cilla and Sharon (have I told you that they are sisters….?), who decided that they would suss him out for themselves a couple of days later and the following text conversation ensued:

Cilla: ‘We are in The Star, no Jeff.’

Jane: ‘Lol you tart!’

Cilla: ‘We couldn’t resist it!’

Jane: ‘Ask when he’s next in!’

Cilla: ‘That is taking friendship too far!’

Jane: ‘Lol you know you’re only doing it to get into the next chapter!’

Cilla: ‘You guessed. We have booked the Abbey for George and Mily!’

Jane: ‘Did he like her photo?’

Cilla: ‘Sharon will send a picture of George. Now the dowries. George comes with a collie, no goats!’ (Sam is the collie with the screw loose.)

Jane: ‘Collie’s fine, want the Dandy too.’ (Dandy is the tent thing that can be towed behind a car and opened up into sleeping quarters.)

Cilla: ‘Only if Mark comes too.’ (Mark is the boring old fart husband who isn’t in the least bit attractive but is very good at giving directions to very stupid redheads.)

Jane: ‘Bugger off’

Cilla: ‘No picture of bridegroom on way.’ x

Jane: ‘Sweet dreams!’

Cilla: ‘You too.’ x

Jeff is clearly not on the agenda, but having been sent a picture of Rupert, I can quite see why Cilla and Sharon drool – a fine figure of a man, holding a falcon, whilst sitting on a horse in a very, very short outfit – clearly multi-tasking – perhaps he’s really a woman in drag…..

The forthcoming nuptials of George and Mily however are gathering steam as they roll along at speed. A meeting of the dream team and the first meeting of the intended pair will take place at the Dorset Steam Fair at the end of August. Watch this space!

Rupert who’s Rupert?

The reason that a visit to the Birds of Prey centre was planned was Rupert. Who’s Rupert you might ask – well I certainly would and did – repeatedly. Apparently Rupert is gorgeous, Rupert is handsome, Rupert was built up to be the best thing since an epilator (if you have never had the experience of using one – I strongly suggest you do. Please do not send your comments to me afterwards for fear of offence.)

Sharon and Cilla knew Rupert well, they don’t know how old he was or whether he had a current partner or where he lived but they do know all of the above ie gorgeous etc. They also know that Katherine (the gorgeous blonde) and I are single. They couldn’t decide who would be the best match so decided to throw us both at him in the time honoured tradition of setting up ones friends. However, and this is where it gets complicated – he didn’t know anything about it. It took me a while to work that one out………….

Are you still with me? Rupert is the co-owner of the Birds of Prey Centre, co-owner with an ex-girlfriend who would be in her early 40’s I suspect. Umm that would probably put Rupert in the 40’s bracket then – too old for 28 yr old Katherine. Oh great – that leaves me in the frame.

The first question that Cilla asked at the reception desk was “Is Rupert doing the flying demonstration?” at the reply of ‘no’, I slunk round the corner expecting her to continue her questioning – she didn’t, phew! The flying demonstration was superb, delivered by the ex-girlfriends son with much aplomb – one of the best I’ve seen and definitely worth a trip.

The next hour or so was spent, ostensibly in looking at the range of raptors and snakes, but was really an excuse to look for Rupert. Rupert failed to materialise, thank god. However this demi-god of manhood should be honoured for his ability to attract a bedraggled bunch (it was raining very hard) of four adults and two children, to a morning out followed by tea and cake; a prelude to Katherine and I wending our way to respective homes or in my case a long, but very pretty trip round the countryside before finding a signpost pointing to Bruton.

Rupert - if you’re out there somewhere – my name is Jane, forget Katherine, far too young for you!

Match Maker Match Maker

I left out several very important happenings from the beginnings as they deserved more than just a few lines. One of those happenings was George.

George was the youngest child of the cornucopia of family that resided at Foxfield House. A truly wonderful young man of 13 years of age who, I predicted, would go far. He gambolled in from building a tree house looking for some sustenance, a perfectly normal demand from a growing young man. He had with him a young friend who was completely overshadowed by the glowing personality that filled the huge kitchen we were all sitting in.

I should have known – he was wearing a t-shirt with ‘The Stig’ on the front. Not being an aficionado of anything car related – infact quite the opposite, hate the damn things – I didn’t immediately twig the significance. I was soon to be ‘filled in’ – more of this later. Having eaten and drunk to his satisfaction George left the kitchen leaving a strangely lonely gap despite his few words – ‘hello, mum, food, where is it…….’

It must have been then, that a strange phenomenon started to metamorphosis: Mily, George, Mily, George. George, Mily, George, Mily. Why, as an intelligent parent who has already had two grown up sons, does the mind wander amongst the realms of the archaic traditions of the past when partners where chosen from friends and family? Maybe in these days of relationship desert and the unlikely delights of the afore mentioned internet dating sites, it is a relief to concentrate on someone else.

Mily is a fairy child of 12 years. Up until she was ten she wanted to be a tooth fairy when she grew up. Recently it was the pleasures of Veterinary Science. That was until our Coker Spaniel; Piper, had a problem with her eye which involved some fairy nasty poking around and its ultimate loss. The many trips to the vet and Mily’s sickly green colour, dizziness and instant desire for fresh air has changed her mind somewhat. She is a beautiful, dainty and quirky young lass who is a delight to be around, obsessed with all things horse and unfortunately enjoys the pleasures of ‘Top Gear’ and the ‘Stig’ (can you start to see the connections here?). Her acutely accurate observations at times astound you with their perception, whilst on other occasions her ‘milyism’s’ have been renowned for their sheer ridiculousness.

Mily, George, George, Mily. Has a certain ring to it don’t you think…… It will be a far more satisfactory pairing than the unlikely ones that are waiting in the wings for us poor, unfortunate, single, 28 year old pluses.

That’s it – I’ve made up my mind, I’m going to be a matchmaker! My new profession – sod being a teacher and general failure at my own relationships. I’m going to sort everybody else’s love life out, any age and any sex. The internet dating site will be but one of the many avenues I can open for those in need of partner (why is it I can’t find them for myself………. Mind you I haven’t really bothered up till now – time to experiment I think – all in the good cause of research you understand).

More of George in later chapters, along with the delights of Sam: the collie whose lights are just not all there, a huge dog size cat and a Labrador with obvious difficulties that are entirely inexplicable.

Getting lost is a speciality of mine and this trip was no exception……………. Bruton to Salisbury, no problem at all, the detour from AA Autoroute map was probably not a good idea, but I did get to Ringwood via a fairly circuitous route. The final bit – an absolute nightmare……. Mine host’s husband laughed a great deal as he led me in on the phone and I lost the plot completely. Found Cilla and Katherine on the edge of the wonderful property that I was to stay in, sitting, swinging their legs on a dry stone wall. Rather than greet them in the normal manner, I swore profusely in relief whilst they too laughed hysterically. Katherine did admit, however, that she had had the same problem but managed to extricate herself without any help – but as a gorgeous blonde of 28, I’ll allow her to take that point!

Despite the many e-mails and texts that abounded the night before and the trepidation of what I would find at the end of my journey the reality was exceptional. Foxfield House was a beautiful, sprawling property in its own considerable land. Rare breed chickens, goats, geese and turkeys wandered around freely amongst sculptures; some of which were whole, others bizarrely had bits missing, whilst an arm adorned the entrance to one of the hen houses…………. I did ask, but was given the answer of ‘it’s just Sharon’ – I accepted that as normal and didn’t question further. After the initial shock it appeared normal anyway.

We decided on a meal in a local thatched pub. Fortunately it was relatively empty as both Katherine and I decided we could do with misbehaving and letting our hair down. The four of us had the dining room to ourselves whilst we set the world to rights and generally made a great deal of noise, punctuated heavily by a huge amount of laughter; aided and abetted by wine.

From our hilarity we planned a new type of internet dating site – one which will take the current dire sites and turn them on their heads. Our ideas will remain a secret for the moment due to possible slanderous and discriminatory issues – all I can say is use your imagination and extend it further than would be considered good taste and you might just get there! We may need to tone it done a bit………

We returned to Foxfield House for some research on the afore mentioned sites which resulted in the older member of our group deciding that she would rather stay with a boring old fart than become single again.

Many, many hours later some small modicum of sleep was attained by some but not all. Breakfast became brunch, and a trip to see a Birds of Prey centre was agreed upon – well worth a visit!

Then the return journey………….. ummmm. Lovely trip back, I have no idea where I was, it took quite a while and I did park up in a number of laybys and look at my map to attempt to find out where I was. Gave up in the end and just followed signs for places I knew and amazing arrived back in Bruton some two hours later.

Plans for further activities have been made but not confirmed and the dating website design is being mulled over for appropriateness in the light of day.