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 the Country. Or how I lost the big city, but gained a good pair of lungs in the Wilds of Somerset.
If you think country life is all cows and cow shit you are only half right. Ok, yes there are cows, and yes there is a lot of cow shit, but there is also a whole lot more to it. For one thing you don’t mind the rain so much in the country. You are not bogged down by the grey city skies. Out here when it rains it is just part of the landscape, and you can almost hear the trees drinking. And it must be something about all that fresh air and wide open spaces as there is a whole lot of shagging going on. Forget bales of hay and steamy hay lofts, this is just good old fashioned fresh air and doing what comes naturally. But what I really love about the country are the people.
Let me introduce you to my
PENNY (20′s) is buxom and blonde, and has only just realized she is sexy; indeed has only just realized she likes sex—a lot. After living with Ivan (‘the terrible’), and giving birth to his four children, she decided one day that she didn’t like him at all, and promptly left, taking their brood with her. When she met Peter she realized what was missing from her life: good sex. They haven’t left the bedroom much since. She is a hairdresser by day, and studies pole dancing by night.
BEATRICE (30′s) or Bee as we like to call her is brisk, efficient, and ‘too school for cool’. She is married to Kevin, but often doesn’t know why she is married to Kevin, and prefers nights out with the girls, than nights in with Kevin. This is her second marriage, and it seems she fell for his puppy dog fringe, and easy going manner out of boredom in the workplace. She is a dental hygienist, and will put her head in your mouth if she thinks you are not flossing. She is also the most intelligent woman I have ever met with a library that could rival Alexandria’s once prosperous corridors. She puts the balls into Balzac. Bee is no wall flower, and will go out with a banner and her protest heels on at the first whiff of injustice. Take the intended nuclear energy corridor ear marked for our area: she had the T-shirts (‘STICK YOUR ELECTRICITY PYLONS’) printed and handed out at the first rally. She even managed to make her infamous cupcakes for the occasion, and hand them around to the protesters who looked happy but puzzled by the electricity logo emblazoned in icing sugar.
MEGAN (40′s) is American, with an accent as thick as cigar smoke, and hair that is static electricity driven. But damn that girl knows how to turn a pair of brogues into a statement piece, or a pair of shorts normally worn by teenagers into a perfectly acceptable over 40′s attire. Megan buys and sells stocks and shares from home, and when she isn’t shoveling out the chickens in her back yard, or rewiring the electricity in her house (give her a ‘How to’ book and she’s away), she can be found loitering in the local COSTAS looking for ‘Hot Totty.’ Children were never part of her life plan, indeed I think she’d rather eat them than give birth to one. Since the recession she has been spending more time internet dating than checking her stocks, with even more disastrous results.
And then of course there is ME (ageless!), public school brat, born with a gold lame spoon in my mouth, ‘trustafarian’, countless failed relationships in my wake, and two children who wish I had made better decisions regarding their fathers. Have sworn off younger men, unless I simply have to!—and would rather sew up my nether regions than engage in anything remotely friendly with anymore badboys or boys still living with their mothers. Am holding onto the dream of meeting Mr Wonderful or dying single/a virgin (LOL).
And of course there are the men….but we’ll get to that…