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.

30th September

The outcome of the biopsy and next steps can be found here

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.

365 days – 30th January

My house is a home because……

It is the place I lived during my marriage and where I brought up my son. It is a place where I have been happy, really happy. True, there has been sadness here, but to be fair the happiness has outweighed the pain and the tears.

We moved to the house when my son was a baby, just 3 months old. He sat for the first time, he laughed and he cried. He walked his first steps, climbed his first stairs. We nurtured him and he grew to be a lovely little, then bigger boy.

When my ex betrayed me, I took refuge in this place. I retreated into a solitary life at times, just me and him. Later his father returned and we were happy after a while.

There have been birthdays, family events, barbecues, parties.

There have been arguments and there have been tears. Too many. The relationship with my ex falling apart, the challenges of living with a growing teenager struggling to find his way in the world.

More recently Master and I have enjoyed some great days and nights here. Kinky fun, kinky and straight sex. I have submitted, I have dressed up for him. I have cooked meals and we have enjoyed great wine with them. We have laughed together.

Sometimes when I sit here alone I can see and hear almost 26 years of my life in little bite size chunks. Happy and sad.

This house has been a home to us and is is still my home. It will remain so until I take my things and try to make another place my home. I suspect it will take a while.

Looking forwards

2016 was a strange year. For the world it has been full of turbulence, a year when more than ever you got the feeling that people were unable to tolerate difference in each other. Where politics seemed to change course, so that the unexpected and feared became reality. A year when terrorism struck in new places as well as old, in summer and winter. When death showed no respect for talent, fame or fortune. In many ways I feel sad about the things and the people we have lost. I am sad that members of my own family can be so abusive about other people just because they look and dress differently. In the main I just ignore their social media rants. I am sad at the level of homelessness and poverty I see on a daily basis so close to my place of work. I am sad that people feel quite so anxious about the world we live in and that we are made to feel we have so much to fear from each other. I feel sad that we seem to be governed by people who have no understanding of the way in which ordinary people live and appear not to care about them. I feel sad that the world is not the place that perhaps it could be.

But those are external things and while we have to exist in the world we also have the opportunity to make our own happiness. So, I face this year 2017 with hope and expectation that things can only get better, if indeed they really are that bad. My list of good things for 2017:
  1. Master and I are healthy and happy and are looking forward to an increasing amount of time together. I will sell my house this year and hope to be living with him by the end of this year.
  2. We have plans to travel more this year. On Tuesday we are off to Brussels for a few days and have plans for a summer holiday on the Canal du Midi in France. I am sure there will be other places that we will visit too. Some here in the UK and others further afield.
  3. My mum remains healthy and is now expressing interest in moving house and downsizing. This might even result in her being less dependent on me as there are suggestions she may move closer to my brother. But we will see.
  4. My son has today announced his engagement to his girlfriend. They moved into their own home a week ago, having rented for the past 18 months. I can’t describe how happy it makes me feel that he is settled in his life.
  5. Hopefully this year will see Master and I spread our kink ‘wings’ a little. We intend to go to some play and other events and in March we will be attending Eroticon. I am particularly keen to develop my blog, to branch out a little into areas that I haven’t tackled. While it is great to write about real time events and happenings in our sex and kink life, I would like to write more opinion based posts as well as branching into fiction. Plus I am keen to meet more like minded people and to be able to have discussions in real life. Hopefully Eroticon will give us that opportunity.
  6. I plan to join in with many of the memes that circulate our part of the internet and this year to complete the February Photofest and maybe the A-Z of blogging again. I am going to start to plan ahead and devote more time to writing.
Most of all, I intend to live my life to the full. To try to lose more weight, to get fitter, to travel, have fun and enjoy life. I intend to embrace the happiness I feel today and to have as much kinky sex as our ageing bodies will allow  us to enjoy!

Argentinian chorizo

I am not even sure they make chorizo in Argentina, but Master’s dream about it on Thursday night / Friday morning has been the joke of our weekend.

We don’t usually spend Thursday night together, but because Friday was going to be spent working on my house, starting our weekend early seemed a good idea. I cooked us a shepherds pie, good comfort food for early December and we enjoyed it with a little bit too much wine (We I never learn).
Early on Friday morning, as I lay awake much earlier than I wanted or needed, he suddenly grabbed my hand and placed it on his hard cock. I lay holding it, surprised by it’s size and the way it throbbed without me actually doing very much. Happily for me, it also lulled me into a nice sleep and when I woke properly some time later, I felt more refreshed than I had expected. Master asked me if I knew why he had been dreaming about Argentinian chorizo since pork is not something they eat much of. I suggested that the dream might have something to do with the fact he had wanted me to hold his hard cock!
The morning was busy for us both. I went off to my slimming club (for some less than good news) and then on to the DIY shop for screws and door fixings and then to the supermarket. Master in turn got on with starting the task of removing the old doors in the downstairs of my house and hanging new ones. While I was out my brother and his partner arrived to help (well he was there to help).
The rest of the day passed with Master and my brother working together on the doors and me spending time with his girlfriend and intermittently providing food and drink. Things, as usual didn’t go entirely to plan, but in the end I have my new doors in place, more modern they will definitely give the right impression to people viewing the house when I come to sell. I was happy to see and hear how well the two men got on together, seeing as they don’t know each other well. The day was fun and relaxed. Later we went out for dinner and drinks. While my brother would have loved to have stayed over and continue things into the night, his girlfriend was keen to get off home.
Once they had gone, and we had enjoyed a pre-bed time G&T we headed off to bed. Master was slightly euphoric from his exertions during the day, the male camaraderie of the day along with the combination of wine, after dinner brandy and then gin.
I was expecting sleep, but Master had other ideas and the result was my Sinful Sunday photo and some very lovely orgasms. Plus, I got to experience the Argentinian chorizo in it’s full glory, this time inside my throbbing cunt.
So ended part one of the weekend.

Looking back, looking forwards

From time to time I have a look back at what I might have written this week or month in previous years on this blog. This morning, prompted by a photo of my then very old and now deceased and Renault Clio’s odometer passing the 100,000 mile mark, I looked back on the Blog to this week in 2012.

I started to write a retrospective post, but struggled. Did I really want to look back an re live what I was feeling then? The negativity of that period shone through with abundance. My ex was a very negative figure in my life during that period, but actually so was S my so called Dom at that time. At the same time, I was given notice that I would potentially lose my job at the end of that financial year.

I did lose my job,  but the sky did not fall on me, I have a better, more well paid job now. S and I limped along for quite some time after, but if I look back on the blog posts at the time and subsequently it was clear to see that it would never work. At the time, it might have seemed that I was giving up 30 years of marriage for something that S would never offer me, and of course did not. As for hubby, well there was a whole lot of negativity to some, not least the weekend in Germany when it subsequently transpired that he met his now partner. Not that he has ever accepted to me that is what and who she is.

Sadly it is around Christmas 2012 that I can trace a change in my relationship with my son, who I had previously been so close to. I failed to understand that I needed to be open with him about the change in my relationship with his dad, but hopefully conversations since then have helped him to understand life is not quite that simple.

It was to be another year before Master and I encountered each other online and subsequently met in real life. But the signs of my need for this kind of relationship was there.

Whatever other mistakes I have made in my life, I know that while it is important to recognise where you have come from, it is much more important to understand where you are going.

Look back briefly, but keep your eyes on the future.

This weekend my son and his girlfriend started with us, as they prepare to move into their own home and I continue to prepare to leave, this our family home after over 25 years. It is time to look forward and not back. It is easy to reminisce but to be frank I don’t think I will be writing about the past too much any more.

Shadows

Do you ever think you see something or someone in your sightline, turn around and realise that the thing or person is not there?

Just part of your imagination?

Perhaps a shadow.

A shadow of the person you were, of a person you knew and loved but who is now gone? A pet that you owned and is also gone?

I often stand in my kitchen, and think I see someone or something outside in the front garden. Afterwards I realise it was a shadow, caused by the way the sun moved across the garden rather than ever quite shining in. It is to do with the way the house is positioned and I know this.

But from time to time I have imagined I briefly witnessed the cat run across the garden, or someone walk down my garden path. But they are not real animals or people, they are shadows.

The cat died 4 or 5 years ago and people who I am not expecting rarely turn up these days, unless they are trying to sell something. Perhaps double glazing or religion.

But actually I like to imagine the ghosts of those lost are around me. Tribbles the cat (named by my son and often out of the house and seeking to come in) who died while his Master was away at university in the USA.  My much loved nan who died 17 years ago and who I swear after she was gone made some of my son’s toys make their electronic noise out of the blue.

Most recently my dad, who died two years ago next week.

Sometimes when I turn around I think I see him walking up the path. In the area because he has been to fit an outside light at someone’s house,  to put in a socket or 5 (he was an electrician) and who is hoping for a cup of coffee, a biscuit and a chat.

But sadly they are all shadows.

Or maybe not so sadly since those shadows bring the memories to the fore and that can’t be either a bad or scary thing. They are the shadows of our lives gone by, our memories and perhaps also of memories to be made in the future. They are something to be valued and enjoyed. Not a very wicked Wednesday, but one from the heart.

Reflecting on days gone by

Master and I have just returned from a night away. We didn’t travel far, just 25 miles or so to the area I grew up in. We had arranged an evening out with my two brothers and their partners, and on the spur of the moment we decided to stay over in the same hotel as the elder of my two brothers who lives a bit further away.

Near to my home town is a market town which is purported to be the resting place of King Harold. It is a place where my nan lived and that I have many happy memories of. We visited the church, a former Abbey apparently 3 times the size it is now. When my son was little and my grandmother lived in the middle of town, I visited often. We would walk around the church and in the gardens that she loved so much. We would go and look at the swans and ducks on the river and she would reminisce about life there during the war and since. It is 17 years ago this summer since she died, but as I walked around the church and gardens yesterday it was as if she was there with me. 
Later we had a lovely meal with my brothers. It would have been better if the music had been less loud. It was a shame, since the old tunes which the live artist sang were just the kind of thing my nan would have loved. What is more she would have been up and dancing given half a chance. 
As you can see from the photo, the weather could have been a little better!

This year is a week old already

We have been chilling out in Spain for nearly 3 weeks now and this pace of life seems to be suiting me. The days seem to roll into each other – get up late, maybe some food shopping, lunch in or in a bar, a wander around, reading, browsing, drinks and dinner, a DVD, a nightcap, bed, sleep, sex, getting up late…..

That is the excuse I am giving for not having posted here for a week and for being so remiss in wishing anyone passing by a Happy New Year.

Today is my last day here in Seville with Master, and I can honestly say that all of the stresses of home and work have melted away during the time we have been here. I wish I could stay longer, as he will be doing, but the time has come for me to return to the reality of the part of my life which is separate from that with him – work and family. I am kind of ambiguous about the work part. To be honest, I do enjoy my job, but I am not looking forward to getting caught up in the politics or the pressures that come with it. I dearly wish that I could walk away, just because I realise I want different things in life now, but I don’t yet have the financial security or even the nerve to do so. I wonder though how I might feel this time next week when I have completed my first week back. As for family, well mum has been misbehaving and my brothers are looking forward to my return, and for my part I am ready to pick up my part of that bargain. I will manage her as I always do and perhaps invest a little more time while Master is still here in Spain. I have missed my son and am hoping to catch up with him and his girlfriend in the next week or so. Lastly there is the ex-hubby / house thing which really needs sorting now. I need that proper and clean break and I need to make it happen. So some tricky discussions ahead there.

But whatever difficulties there might be ahead, I do so from a happy and calm position. I have seen how my life with Master can be and it is one I definitely want and need more of. I just need to work through all of these huge little barriers to making that happen. What is for sure is we definitely get on as well over a few weeks of being together 24/7 as we do for short periods.

I am going to miss him, but hell it will only be two weeks and during that time I am going to be busy. This first week in January has gone pretty quickly and there is no reason to suspect that the next one won’t be the same.

One more day and night together and then I fly home.

…………………………………
Twitter

I already had a Twitter account, which I rarely post to myself, but follow a number of healthcare and other related threads. For obvious reasons I avoided linking to anything sex / BDSM related on there. But I have now got myself a new twitter account linked to this blog. You can follow me from the side bar or @MPBjulie This whole thing is work in progress, but something I will attend to when I get home. Yep, MPB is getting into social media!