"Sex is a drag..in a bore-dy house, I daresay.." So said Vivian Stanshall, in his instructive ditty "I'm Bored".Incidentally, any one who thinks it is acceptable to say "bored of" ought to seek out this song at once. It is "bored WITH", end of. But yes, sex. There has been a nasty little rash of people lately who have been tumbling over themselves in the rush to go into print with details of their endeavours in this field. I note that they have, for the most part, been ladies of maturer years, if not behaviour. I consider this a deplorable trend. It reminds me of my youth (I wonder how HE is getting on..),when girls would get a boyfriend and spend every breaktime, when they should have been smoking, discussing the ins and outs of the poor chap's physiognomy and general demeanour in the bedroom.Not that it ever WAS a bedroom, as these antics were mostly conducted in curious nooks and crannies known only to teenagers with no access to a nice king-size. You will observe that I have no objection to the double,or even multiple, entendre. Saucy or ribald allusion is fine, in my book.What I find difficult is putting a face to the graphic images conjured by up in such HD detail by, for instance, Sally Bercow and Jane Fonda. And it's not British. We have a fine tradition of sexual embarrassment, with oodles of shame, furtiveness, and public reticence. This is part of our cultural heritage,and has resulted in great works of art. Without it, "Round The Horne" could never have existed.
Here, if a person finds a person alluring,and it is reciprocated; it is the form for them to ignore one another completely for several months, until one evening when enough drink has been taken for some sort of dim rapprochement to be reached. We don't "date". We stumble into each other a few times and then buy a house. It is entirely possible to have a wild and passionate conjugation lasting several decades without the word "relationship" ever being mentioned. We are a strange sad inhibited people, and we like it that way. A great deal is down to the weather, of course. I always puzzle at the hardiness of "doggers"; these folk who meet in rain-lashed carparks to engage in acts of public congress. Although to be fair ,they might view car boot sales in a similiar fashion. I wonder if anyone ever gets these two functions mixed up, I do hope so.
Until recently, our perfectly vile climate has contributed to sedate behaviour. However, since the internet, all sorts of publicity for one's sexual peccadiloes is now possible, and one can be an exhibitionist without ever leaving the house.
But as I insist to the G.B; "They are called Private Parts for a reason".I explain to him with tender solicitude that whatever one might think about why humans were given genitals, the reason was not, surely, so that they could evolve to the stage of being able take pictures of them on a smartphone and circulate these images to their Facebook friends. I feel for his generation of boys, I really do. I find the girls of his age daunting, and I used to teach a thing called "Health and Hygiene" to Angry Boys in Tottenham. It is all part of the passion for everything to be shared and public. A darling friend of mine popped round the other Sunday evening.She had passed, she reported, a couple copulating in a doorway in Duke St. It was broad-ish daylight. What struck her was that they were in front of a sign that said "No Smoking In This Doorway", and that the girl was still holding a large pink balloon on a ribbon.
Oh well. At least they weren't writing in to the "Echo" about it.
I know I am peculiar. I think "Brief Encounter" is the sexiest film there is,and quite often dress people with my eyes. But there must be a few of us out there who prefer smut, innuendo, repression and inhibitions to cheerless P.E? Let's all meet in the Central Library Reading Room in natty tailoring, and ignore each other.
Here, if a person finds a person alluring,and it is reciprocated; it is the form for them to ignore one another completely for several months, until one evening when enough drink has been taken for some sort of dim rapprochement to be reached. We don't "date". We stumble into each other a few times and then buy a house. It is entirely possible to have a wild and passionate conjugation lasting several decades without the word "relationship" ever being mentioned. We are a strange sad inhibited people, and we like it that way. A great deal is down to the weather, of course. I always puzzle at the hardiness of "doggers"; these folk who meet in rain-lashed carparks to engage in acts of public congress. Although to be fair ,they might view car boot sales in a similiar fashion. I wonder if anyone ever gets these two functions mixed up, I do hope so.
Until recently, our perfectly vile climate has contributed to sedate behaviour. However, since the internet, all sorts of publicity for one's sexual peccadiloes is now possible, and one can be an exhibitionist without ever leaving the house.
But as I insist to the G.B; "They are called Private Parts for a reason".I explain to him with tender solicitude that whatever one might think about why humans were given genitals, the reason was not, surely, so that they could evolve to the stage of being able take pictures of them on a smartphone and circulate these images to their Facebook friends. I feel for his generation of boys, I really do. I find the girls of his age daunting, and I used to teach a thing called "Health and Hygiene" to Angry Boys in Tottenham. It is all part of the passion for everything to be shared and public. A darling friend of mine popped round the other Sunday evening.She had passed, she reported, a couple copulating in a doorway in Duke St. It was broad-ish daylight. What struck her was that they were in front of a sign that said "No Smoking In This Doorway", and that the girl was still holding a large pink balloon on a ribbon.
Oh well. At least they weren't writing in to the "Echo" about it.
I know I am peculiar. I think "Brief Encounter" is the sexiest film there is,and quite often dress people with my eyes. But there must be a few of us out there who prefer smut, innuendo, repression and inhibitions to cheerless P.E? Let's all meet in the Central Library Reading Room in natty tailoring, and ignore each other.
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