My roots

Until they are older, and have children of their own, many people don’t think about their origins, their roots. As young children, my brothers and I enjoyed listening to our grandparents recounting stories of how they had met, their courtship and marriage. Soon after they married the second world war broke out, grandad went off to war. My nan and my mum who was only weeks old lives with family, but everyone muddled through. He was in France, North Africa and Sicily and she along with my mum lived in close proximity to their wider family in England. Tales of my grandad leaving a cuckoo clock on Dunkirk beach, of family members being ‘bombed out’ sounded rather amazing, exciting.

40 years ago, people were careful to recount only the less unpleasant stories of war. No one talked of fear or pain, of loss and poverty. The spirit of togetherness and making do came through, and the stories were embellished so that as children we found them exciting. The reality of course was different. 

The same grandparents had their roots in mining communities of the north east of England. They were in fact related to each other, cousins of a different generation. He was 9 years older, and went to India in the early 30s to escape the dangerous work of the pits. She was one of 9 children, whose father died when she was 5. My great grandfather’s death was caused by an accident in the slag heaps associated with the mines. A few years later, the family travelled south in search of a better life and to be closer to grown children already there. They had work in factories or in domestic service, in reality we would consider them children now, as the school leaving age was 14 at the time. By 1937 grandad had left the army (briefly it turned out) and was lodging next door to my nan and by August 1939 they were married with a child.

Grandad as a young man

I know this in some detail because my nan wrote it all down in what she called ‘her book’. It details her early childhood, the death of her father and moving south. Gives an insight to times spent with her brothers, the music of the times and to what it was like to be a child in the 1920’s and 30’s. It also tells me about the loneliness of being a mother whose husband was absent for the best part of 7 years. Of how people had to club together to afford decent food and the way in which death and destruction was just around the corner.

I feel privileged to have this memoir in my possession, along with the stories told to us and the family photos we can piece more of their lives together. Maybe it is time to put a little some of it online so their story can be preserved for future generations.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

My body and me

I have always had difficult relationship with my body. I spent years believing I was fat and so hiding it away. Only to discover later, while looking back at old photos that I was slim. By then of course I’d put on a few stones. Before my pregnancy I had pretty small tits, but they grew and grew and thankfully stayed that way, even after I had breastfed.

Master says he likes my body, and that he wants something to grab hold of. I believe him and am comfortable in my own skin when I am around him. I love that he finds me sexy and arousing, even though I struggle to see it myself.

My mum has never held back from showing off her body. My son recently remarked that he found going holiday with nan a bit embarrassing, especially when she sunbathed topless. I never did so around him, partly after getting burnt in my youth, but mainly to avoid his blushes. Also, I thought I was fat, even when i wasn’t.

Hiding

Last Wednesday I arrived in Cyprus with my right breast covered in 2 large dressings. The day before, I attended a screening one stop clinic where I had 2 areas biopsied. A small area of calcium deposits was detected on the mammogram taken last month. The breast lump I had already found wasn’t seen on the xrays. I’m a nurse and I didn’t realise that would be the case. After much prodding, poking and an ultra sound scan, the area was biopsied. I still have a massive bruise to show for it.

The dressing was visible above my top, but if mum noticed it she said nothing. Sitting on the plane beside her, I wondered what I should say. As is often the case between she and I my decision was to say nothing. If the biopsies are negative she doesn’t need to know. However, since we are sharing a room this has presented a problem. And has led to me scurrying into the bathroom to dress, change and undress. It is a completely different situation to how things would be if I were home or indeed Master were here.

My reticence about speaking of my biopsy, of showing my body to others and in particular my mum exposes a deeper issue. She is not good with other people’s problems, she certainly managed to make my dad’s illness about her. But also we tolerate each other rather than enjoy each others company. Earlier in the week she actually described me as her carer, which I guess this week, I am.

But my inability to speak about the biopsy is also about me. It is about me coming to terms with changes in my own body. This summer I have developed a number of problems, including the lump. I am not healing as i did, bruises are taking longer to fade and disappear and there is something not right.

I don’t know if this is cancer or not, I will know on Thursday. But if it is, there will be no more hiding. If all is well, then maybe I need to take some lessons from this experience and value my body more. It’s the only one I have.

Some day

So many things that I wanted to do have become reality. The fact that Master and I are living together, that we have the time to do the things we want together is wonderful. Last weekend we attended our third CMnf – Clothed Male, naked female – event. This time I was so relaxed about everything that I had no hesitation in getting stripped off straight away. I wore nothing all afternoon other than a lovely chain harness that we bought at BBB a few weeks ago. I love the way it frames my breasts – there will definitely need to be a photo on the blog soon. 

But this week I have had cause to reflect on the concept of waiting to do things ‘some day’s versus getting on and doing them now. For two years Master and I spent time working on my house and garden. I know this because over the past couple of months  numerous posts have reappeared on Facebook. Repairing the shed, painting fences, decluttering, painting walls. The same with women, for a long time I knew I had had enough but that moving house and giving up work would have to happen around the same time.

Those things have now happened and our time is our own. Now we can plan for new dreams, a new some day. Well hopefully yes. But as I lay on a doctor’s couch on Tuesday having a lump in my breast biopsied, I did consider that perhaps we should now just do what we want when we want to. My dream of having more time to myself didn’t involve breast cancer treatment, and maybe it wont come to that. I will know next week.

I now wonder about the 2 years of procrastination, of doing things right for my ex. I wonder if I should have been harder faced and concentrated more on what we needed for us. There is no turning back, butmaybe a realisation that thinking you’ll do things some day is the wrong approach. If you can, do it now.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Taking a risk

Up until my 50th birthday approached, I had taken few risks, well certainly not ones involving sex and relationships. As I’ve mentioned a number of times before, at that time I was living with my husband of nearly 30 years, the only man I’d had sex with. On a couple of occasions when bored, lonely or both I had chatted online or on the phone to men. I even met one guy, but he was unable to have sex, just as well really since I didn’t fancy him. He became a friend for a while and there were certain benefits, such as some good orgasms. I guess technically I was cheating on my husband, but I told myself that unless actual intercourse took place it was ok.

When I started chatting to S though, everything changed. For the first time I was sexually aroused and attracted to a man I had never met. Over the course of a couple of weeks I found myself doing things to please him. Weird since usually I dressed and did things for myself. I wanted to meet this man, but didn’t know how to make it happen. I lived 2 hours by car from him, was married and worked full time. He on the other hand had no transport other than his work van, and that belonged to the company. By luck I was due to go on a course in London for 2 days, though there was no real reason to stay over. So I invented one, the course was intense and everyone else was staying over. Why my husband believed me, I don’t know, other than that he trusted me.

So it was that at the end of the first day of the course I made my way to a hotel in a small town south of London, by train. When I arrived at the station it was raining, there were no taxis, I had no idea if there was a bus and S was still travelling from work. I got out my phone and walked in the rain the mile or so to the hotel, which was really a pub with rooms. This was one of S’s favourite things, a small hotel or B&B, no chance then of invisibility. Thankfully the receptionist was expecting me and S had paid in advance. I went up to the room.

It was at this point that I fully understand the potential danger I was putting myself in. I was going to meet, have sex with and sleep with a stranger. No one knew where I was and I had no means of getting away quickly. But I was excited by the prospect of these things too. A crazy middle aged woman who should have known better.

But actually it was ok. I had a shower and changed into the clothes he had asked me to wear. S arrived and I went to the bar while he showered, then he joined me. Admittedly it wasn’t much later before the clothes were off and we were having sex. It was my choice and I don’t regret it. I did however take a massive risk.

New life

I feel embarrassed that I have written nothing of any note on my blog during the whole of July. Today, it is already 26th and other than 3 sinful Sunday posts, nothing.

But, I have excuses, good ones.

This week our new life together has begun. As of Tuesday this week, two whole days ago, we are co-habiting here in His house. That is to say I have a new home and it is going to take some getting used to.

The past few weeks have passed in a blur. Earlier in the month I hired a skip. My brother and son came over and we spent a day filling it with things in the house that were surplus to requirement. It was a big skip and there was a lot of stuff. It was a happy, fulfilling weekend and I was satisfied at the end of it that I was on track.

Then I got ill. I followed advice on the NHS website, delayed seeking medical help and then was denied antibiotics. Apparently I didn’t have an infection. Except I did. So, I lost a week from work, from preparing to move and from being able to do much at all.

Last weekend then turned into a mad rush of packing the last things, then getting ready for the actual move.

He and I have worn ourselves out this week. The temperatures have been stupidly hot and we have had no time to enjoy the weather. Tuesday went smoothly but at the end we were exhausted and I went back to work on Wednesday.

This weekend we can take stock. Unpack and properly get ourselves sorted. It will be a little while before I am ready to blog properly again. There is much I want to and will say, but not yet. However, we are here and we are here together. Our new life together has begun.

Blogging A-Z 2018: T and U

First day back from holiday and suddenly yesterday I had lost my blogging mojo. The discovery that I am shadow banned on Twitter just added to my apathy.

Twitter

Somehow over the past couple of years I have become more and more engaged with Twitter as a social media platform. I find myself going there when I wake and again many times during the day. My posts auto tweet and during the day a couple of older posts appear. Some days I tweet quite a bit, engaging with others and other times not.

I have no way of knowing whether this behaviour alone has led to Twitter taking against me or if it is the photos. After all, the photo below, which appeared as part of my post on Sunday is pretty graphic. But since Twitter don’t admit shadow banning is even a thing, all I can do is surmise. Still it will make my SoSS all the more pertinent this week.

Undertake

Finally I am in a position to realise my objectives. At last, after more than 4 years of talking about selling my house and moving on from my marriage it is in touching distance.

Now, the hard work must be undertaken. What to throw away, what to put into storage, what to take with me. Master has cleared out a lot of clutter, but there is still work to be done. Also, he is planning some building work, so I can’t take all of my belongings straight there. Plus there is the emotional attachment I have to this house, I have lived here for 27 years. We moved here when my son was a baby of just 5 months and so there are lots of memories here.

But now is the time to move on and to create a new home, one with Master. We will both need to adapt to our new life and to make room for each other. But it will mean we can be together and can start to plan some new plans and work on those outcomes. It also means I am going to resign my job soon and take a breather. The next few months will be emotional, but interesting and fun too.

Blogging A-Z 2018: F

This is the third year that I have participated in Blogging A-Z. This year i am going to try to make my topics a little more mainstream. They will, however clearly link to kink and may on occasion be NSFW.

F is for Family

I have wonderful memories of times spent with family. The oldest of 3 children, our home was busy and noisy. Friends or other family were often around as we grew up. My maternal grandmother was one of 9 children and so even though both my parents were only children, we had a large wider family. There were many weddings, christenings, birthday parties, more weddings, christenings and finally funerals to attend.

Once grown up and married my siblings and I along with spouses and children congregated at my parents house for family events – Christmas, birthdays, Sunday lunch. But as time went on and we had our own friends it all became a bit too much. There was an expectation by my parents that we would be there for those special occasions. Little thought was given to the fact we might instead want to visit inlaws or go out with friends. Everything was taken for granted.

Until that is things began to fall apart. Within a year of each other my brothers’ separated from their wives. Family occasions were immediately different. When they met new partners my parents were disappointed that things did not revert back. Our children were growing up, my nephew and son away at university, the other children often with their mothers, friends, or other family. My own marriage break up and then the death of my dad in 2014 seemed destined to cause us to drift further apart. We all found the absence of our dad difficult to handle and my mum’s needs threatened to cause conflict rather than to bring us together.

My mum’s move earlier this year means she is living close to the older of my 2 brothers. Perhaps is may help bring us all together again. We are  beginning to communicate more effectively and to enjoy family time again. This hasn’t yet led to the whole family getting together at her new place yet, but perhaps it soon will. All her grandchildren (bar the one who has been abroad for almost a year) have visited, some of them at the same time. Due to the distance we are making more effort. Adult family life is not the same as that of childhood, and being middle aged ourselves means it is different again. But I do believe we all recognise the importance of making the most of time we can be together.

Blogging A-Z 2018: E

This is the third year that I have participated in Blogging A-Z. This year i am going to try to make my topics a little more mainstream. They will, however clearly link to kink and may on occasion be NSFW.

E is for Equilibrium

It would be wonderful to say that I am firing on all cylinders and that my life was in equilibrium. But I am not sure it is.

So many good things have happened to me over the past few years. Unhitching myself from a marriage that threatened to over power and unhinge me and then finding the  man who I wish to share my life with are just two. Indeed the stressed and emotional woman I was in 2014 when we met is no more. I am happier than ever, clear about the person I am and clear where I am heading.

But still the same things trouble me. My ex hasn’t given me the final things I require to break through. The house remains ours rather than theirs because his new partner hasn’t sold her place. Plus we remain married in law.

These are two areas of my life in which Master will not intervene. So it is up to us. I despair at my inability to force action despite numerous conversations. Apparently her house has been valued, but still I must wait in final stasis.

Last year I blamed my mum because she hadn’t moved house. My brothers’ because they didn’t pull their weight. But those things no longer ring true.

Equilibrium for me and for us will be found when we are free of my ex, my house and everything that goes with it. I know we are close, just not close enough.

I am beginning to wonder what needs to happen next to make our dream a reality. To allow me to move in with Master and to let me resign my job.

I need equilibrium in my life. It is within touching distance but now quite close enough to be reality.

 

Blogging A-Z 2018: C

This is the third year that I have participated in Blogging A-Z. This year i am going to try to make my topics a little more mainstream. They will, however clearly link to kink and may on occasion be NSFW.

C is for Collar

My collar is a key symbol of my role as submissive and slave to Master. It is a constant reminder that he is my Owner and my Lord.

I am not the easiest person to be the Master of, because I am not scared of giving my view and often this comes across as ‘being bratty’. Something Master is often telling me. I aspire to be a better slave, but can’t help but say things that get me into trouble.

But wearing a locked collar, one that needs a key to unlock it, helps. It reminds me of who I am as it rests there against my collar bone. Made of titanium, my collar looks heavier than it is but I can always feel it. Sometimes the back of my neck becomes unbearably warm and I swivel the collar round to cool me down. This is very useful for the menopausal woman, which of course is what I am. I rarely remove it and since it doesn’t set off any alarms at the airport it stays in place even then.

Very few people know the significance of the collar, but they do admire it. Only when we are out and about with lifestyle people, such as at a munch do people know it’s meaning. I love that the people I encounter at such events know that I am Master’s property. And that makes me feel proud and also it helps with my submission.

My collar is a very important part of me and of our relationship.

TMI Tuesday – Sexy Secrets

Sexy Secrets

1. Do you have a special place you like to have sex regularly?

Most of our sex takes place in or on a bed. Though the living room floor does feature. In general, comfort is the thing.

2. What’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done? The scariest?

Probably keeping my mouth firmly shut about the type of relationship I am part of. It isn’t that I want to tell people my business, but it would be much easier if I could be more open.

3. Are you annoying?

I am pretty sure I can be very annoying. When I get anxious I talk too much with those I know and too little with those I don’t. It makes a social gathering unpredictable!

4. A person whom you’ve had “the hots” for a very long time tells you they are super attracted to you. You spend a few hours together and the sexual attraction is overwhelming. You are dying to have this person as your lover. At the moment you are highly aroused, and he/she wants to have sex with you in a church, would you do it?

Not sure I would have sex in a church. Might, and have got up to some reasonably naughty things in one. I guess if I really had the hots for someone, then spontaneous sex might happen. Just maybe not in a church.

5. While in the middle of the best lovemaking of your life, if your lover asked you to squeal like a dolphin, would you?

Probably. I have said and done some equally crazy things. I am a submissive don’t you know.

Bonus: Are you good in bed?

Ask my Master, he’ll tell you………

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How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

Happy TMI Tuesday!