2006-08-02
And so the weeks go past. And my access to this site becomes more and more limited. I apologise to those of you who are used to receiving the occasional comment on what you have written from me. Although it seems I’m allowed to add entries here the ‘thought police’ in my office have now deemed all of your diaries as unacceptable material to be accessed from my desk. And those of you who have teenage children will know just how much chance I get to use my own computer at home. I’m taking a few days off the week after next – I hope to catch up on you all then. I miss you. Isn’t that strange? I’ve only ever met one of you, and spoken on the phone to one other, but I miss you as friends.But then not much is happening with me. Number-two-son, Jack, came back from three weeks in the Far East on Sunday having been out there as an assistant leader with his Scouts troop while they did some community work (they constructed a children’s play park from wood scavenged from a forest). He seems to want to keep it secret from his other friends that that was what he was doing – got in a huge panic about a publicity photograph that appeared in the local newspaper (until I pointed out that as he never looks at a local paper it’s pretty unlikely anyone he knows would do so and stumble across the picture) – but we’re actually pretty proud of him. As he is somewhere on the autistic scale his mother and I consider it a big achievement to do something like that and be given some responsibility. He’ll always be a worry: it’s gratifying when he achieves something.
After the last bust-up Jo and I seem to have settled back into a comfortable relationship. But I may, of course be deluding myself. She and Dave are selling their home and moving to another part of the city. As I said last week she says they are getting on better these days and I guess a house-move is another uniting decision. It also makes it more likely that she will have to keep working, although that isn’t necessarily here next to me.
Yesterday she sent me a note through e-mail that just said ‘mmm slippery’, which gave me an immediate erection, knowing what and where she was ‘slippery’. We’d just emerged from the lift where as usual we had indulged in a few seconds of embrace. I’d found my hands slipping into the back of her waist-band and had reached down to nuzzle around the back of her neck. She’d pulled me against her and felt part of me pressing where she wanted me to be pressing. It didn’t, doesn’t last long. It’s possibly a silly thing to indulge in when, I think, neither of us intend to take that sort of thing any further any more. But it does feel good, and the knowledge that it has the same effect on her as it always did is even more arousing for me. And then I got to remembering how that slipperiness tastes.