Sex in the country is an online column by poet, writer, activist, and troublemaker, Tara Newley. Having spent over twenty years working her way up the slippery showbiz slope from Tea Girl to TV presenter, from Rock and Roll Pop Singer to Dance Diva with the Ezee Possee, La Tara found her true niche when she moved with her two kids to the English sea-side. Known for its donkey rides and cotton candy, Weston-Super-Mare was the last place you expected to find the daughter of showbiz royalty.
As the daughter of TV legend, Joan Collins, and cockney singer/songwriter Anthony Newley she was more used to the West End than the West Country. But she bravely donned a pair of wellies, and fell in love with the wilds of Somerset.....and more.....
SEX IN THE COUNTRY
“Sex and death are closely linked,” he said leaning on the bar. Since discovering his name was Clive, and that he worked in insurance I had also uncovered the fact that behind those dark shades were some erotically charged thought processes. “How’s that?” I ventured; almost afraid to hear the answer. “The male orgasm is...
Our eyes met across the crowded crematorium. Or rather my eyes met the inky blackness of his dark shades. He looked cool and sophisticated in a two piece suit and white shirt, unbuttoned just enough. What he would have seen—through his shaded vision: a woman in a 1950’s sleeveless wool mix sweater daubed in roses—(still...
When waxing and waning are just two verbs to define the moons cycle all is fine and dandy. When waxing becomes the modus operandi for women to keep on top of their pubic hair, and keep men on top of their bodies, we then have to ask when this necessity became so necessary! Not...
Penny is hanging upside down, and sliding slowly down the pole. Bee, Megan and I look on with our mouths open. She is certainly improving. Her one piece, however, is riding dangerously high up her crack. “Honey be careful, that’s the kind of flossing that can only create problems,” croaks Bee, ever the dental hygienist....
The room was dark, hot, sweaty. There were bodies scattered on the floor; achieving maximum lift off in unusual lotus type positions, and taught stretched lycra. I felt desperately un-yogic in baggy sweatpants and a Guns and Roses T-Shirt. For ten years I had scoured the backwaters of Weston-Super-Mare looking for something akin to a...
Gentlemen, men of gentle dating persuasion, I have another question for you that I hope won’t dapple your brow too much. Indeed it has been sitting in my mind, like a disgruntled humbug for some time now. Don’t worry, don’t get your grown man knickers in a twist, I’m not going to insult you (too...
Woe to the trick or treaters this week who came to my door. They found a real witch. And no I wasn’t dressed in a pointy hat. I was utterly pissed off with the world. Well actually half of the world. Well actually more than half of the world if you believe the statistics which...
From the top of the hill, the vale of Longleat House stretches out below you like a pleasure palace. Indeed, the aperture affording the view is called ‘Heaven’s Gate.’ The heat shimmers off the lush valley, and the many cars of the visiting multitude add a multi coloured knit to this carpet of green, leading...
I’d been knocking some time on Megan‘s door. The wind was whipping up a storm across the heathland, and a crop duster stood idly in an open field valiantly braving the tempest. I was just about to get back in my car when she opened the door. “Oh, sorry-sorry, have you been there long?” she...
Who will win the award for best scrunchie this year? That is the burning question on my lips. What pert buttocks and thighs will captivate us as we sit with our bellies flopping over our elasticated trousers? Watching the Olympics for me is simply like watching an advert for my gym; the one I have...
I had survived. I was alive. The drunken road trip that was my lift home had left me shaken and stirred. I had spent all evening enjoying the lips and hands of ‘Oliver Reed’s Son’, but the pleasure of his hands and lips were erased by the fear of this night ride through hell....
On the winding road leading back to my home and my neighbor, Jessica’s, we lost many things. The first of those was fear, as should we have held onto fear none of us would have lasted the first bend in the road. Jessica’s pubescent boyfriend was at the wheel. What we didn’t...
Celebs and their followers flocked to the country for T4’s tenth birthday. There was sand, there was muddy sand, there was rain, there was wind, and then the clouds magically dispearsed and the sun shone down on us in Weston-Super-Mare. Gloriously attired in their festival glad rags, these harbingers of cool descended for a day...
As he set about the complicated task of forming words, the man straddling my bench, breathing alcoholic fumes, introduced himself. For the sake of ease, let’s just call him Liar. His accent was somewhere between Somerset and Swindon. Untraceable and unimportant, as brown eyes often have a memory erase function in my experience. (But...
The pub ‘Racks’ in a West Country lane sounded like it was ready for its next victim. I expected stocks, but found a light and breezy atmosphere. Tables full of easy going boozers with nothing but time. The outside temperature was well above winter averages. Not a drop of rain anywhere on the horizon. The...
As I pulled up outside my ramshackle country abode, less ‘Gone With the Wind’ more ‘Blown Over By the Wind,’ I looked over at number 7. Angela’s car was gone. In fact Angela was gone–for good. No more popping over to borrow her hamster (not a euphemism) when the cat ate ours, no more listening...
INTRODUCTION I was breastfed on the streets of New York City, but once I learned to walk–in heels– another city beckoned. A city with wilder drinking habits, a city that made Broadway quiver, a city that set fashion spinning–the City of London….but I gave it all up….for Weston-Super-Mare. This is the story of Sex in...