The Spinster's Exploits

Sex, sensuality and possibly spanking after seventy…

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about

The Spinster is a 70-year-old South Walian who doesn’t believe sex, sensuality and fun stop at seventy. There is more to growing old disgracefully than wearing purple 💜- although she does love purple! She considers herself to have dual sexuality as she loves vanilla but something gets unleashed when she is spanked by the right person… She is excited to have reached this significant milestone and thrilled to discover erotic possibilities can be there for the taking. Oh! And she can be a touch up herself and talk about herself in the third person – but nothing a good spanking won’t cure!😉🤭

  • TTTWD – This Thing That We Do…

    I loved all the mad acronyms and abbreviations that abounded on websites and forums, when I first started lurking on the spanking site of my choice. Some were generic – “Ta-ta for now” and “be right back” but one of my favourites was “This Thing That We Do”. I loved the simplicity and acceptance of the phrase and the ease of using such a handy little abbreviation when discussing the topic of choice.

    Funnily enough, politics, current affairs, religion and every topic imaginable also abounded on my chosen site. The jaded oldies – which I guess I became – tended to use the “Other topics” forum rather than the “Spanking” one, where the excited newbies got over our/their excitement about having somewhere to discuss “it”!

    What is not realised by those without the experience, is that the virtual online forums before the current social media were a fabulous place to connect and virtual friendships were real friendships. So, once you had a place to discuss spanking, it was also nice to find out how others were doing, or argue politics or literature, cause mischief or be supportive. I have witnessed levels of care and concern on the spanky site, The BBC Archers forum and the Round Britain Quiz(!) forum over bereavement, ill-health and disaster, that was as genuine as I have encountered elsewhere. People sometimes meet, but often don’t. I still have warm memories of my Woman’s Hour and other forum friends as I do of those on the spanky site.

    But when not catching up with friends and arguing over spanking in “Under Milk Wood”; swapping advice on cake-making or managing depression; or debating the Catholic Church’s definition of atonement, my spanky site was a great place to think about and discuss TTTWD.

    Now most of us who HAVE a TTWD have thought long and hard about why we have a “thing” and most of us have an origin story. This is mine:

    I was born in the 50s and was brought up as a Catholic. I was very shy and was bullied from a young age. I remember being so terrified of some children that I would do anything to avoid them. No thrills there. There were also the children in my school who thought me beyond contempt, so they ignored me. This meant I spent a lot of time daydreaming. As a Catholic I was well versed in concepts of submission, ‘offering up suffering’,  sacrifice and tales of martyrs. Some clues, perhaps? I suspect, though, there are an awful lot of women brought up similarly who find my tastes peculiar.  Although I did not comprehend the idea of sexual fantasy until well into my teens, I had early fantasies of vague suffering at the hand of those who were somehow my inferior. My superiority lay in the nobility with which I bore the persecution – definitely a touch of the martyr! I also remember imagining scenes of spanking.

    What was it about that word? It had a magic for me and the fascination of the unknown. As a child I didn’t want to be spanked but found the subject thrilling. I know I hated pain. At home discipline was rarely physical. When it was, it was a hastily administered slap on the leg from my mother, which I hated and resented. My father has never physically chastised me. At school the thought of the cane terrified me, and I was thankful that it seemed the preserve of the boys – an early bit of sexism for which I was thankful. Boys usually got the cane on their hand but there was something exciting about the idea of bending over and receiving punishment ‘Whacko’ style. Most teachers commonly administered a slap on the leg or bottom, but I never received one, as I was a ‘good’ girl. I remember only fear at the thought of rousing a teacher to slap me.

    The question that intrigues me (and I never dared ask in case I ‘gave myself away’) is this: Were the fifties and sixties full of spanking images or did I ‘see’ them because of a predisposition? Did the following make me into somebody with these tendencies or did I simply notice them because of who or what I am? Nature/nurture – Don’t you just love it? The memories from my childhood include:

     *Dennis the Menace and Beryl the Peril always getting spanked in the comics

    *The afore-mentioned “Whacko” films and similar

    *50s films on T.V. where the interesting, ‘feisty’ young woman is spanked by the man she loves and becomes submissive

    *Similar films where same type as above falls in love with the only man who ‘dares’ to spank her

    *Doris Day films where Doris is interesting and feisty then becomes a pushover in love – I’m not sure if she ever gets spanked but somehow it would fit the plot if she did

    *John Wayne spanking a young woman – no idea why

     *An episode of ‘Bonanza’ where an ‘Indian squaw’ is apparently badly behaved and is spanked (off-screen?) with a hairbrush. The hairbrush becomes a ‘reminder’ for her to ‘behave’

    *A Superman comic in which Lois is apparently spanked by a Superman robot (for being too inquisitive?) and hides her embarrassing secret; then it is revealed that Superman himself meted out her chastisement, but Lois doesn’t know this.

    I cannot guarantee the full authenticity of my memories but the above are what I believe I remember and I’ve seen enough repeats and old films to confirm their truth in principle. So, did you notice too? Perhaps you were indifferent or indignant? Me? I tingled and still do.

    The tingling continued. I would imagine scenarios where handsome men meted out punishments to naughty girls or women. While these secret fantasies were thrilling, I didn’t see them as sexual and I discovered my sexuality in a vanilla context. Actually progressing to intercourse through the tortuous stages of ‘courting’ were as much sexuality as I could handle. And yet in a separate little world the spanking thoughts were there.

    As I became more sexually aware I realised sexual fantasy was part of the sexual experience.

    While all this is my truth, I don’t obsess about it – I just accept I have a bit of a kink, and that’s simply who I am.

    I have no idea why any of us have our ‘kink’, but I’m not really bothered about that any more. Like the perfect cup of tea, the sun on my back, chocolate, fabulous scenery, or the sea it simply works for me. And the pain is part of the pleasure. This is my simple response to why I am what I am.

  • You picked a fine time to leave me, Lucille…

    Well – unlike Lucille’s unfortunate partner, I don’t have a crop in the field – just a few in the toy box – and definitely no hungry children! Having had an unexpected weekend to myself, I was having a moment of idleness, among many more such moments, when I suddenly remembered my biorhythm app. And to my amusement my physical energy was plummeting to the bottom of the graph at -72%; emotionally I was on the up from bottom-scraping to -85% but flying intellectually at a mere -0.8%! And to add insult to injury, the app was advertising dementia testing! Luckily things were not so bad…

    I’ve done a lot of binge-watching and did miss his company for the next series of “Only Murders in the Building”. I read “The Penguin lessons”, practised my Welsh and French on Duolingo, did puzzles and a lot of blobbing! Had a sedate time with Sunday brunch in my local caff and the Observer and behaved with the decorum fitting for a seventy-one-year-old spinster…

    I also got an unexpected burst of motivation. I have deep suspicion of “The Cloud” but finally got round to saving my files onto flash drives and made new emergency info cards for my purse and phone as old ones were dog-eared.

    And if you’re looking for an innocuous post to “like” in the hopes I’ll like yours back – be my guest – just one naughty reference, today…

  • The end of a beautiful friendship…

    It seems I can’t have it all, after all. My lovely Friend with Benefits I was sort of dating is no longer “feeling it” so has called it a day. I shall miss him on so many levels.

    He inspired my journey into hidden desires and possibilities, re-awakened my kinky side and inspired me to delve deeper and find new sources of pleasure. He was a great companion for blobbing, days out, holidays and TV binge-watching as well as mind-blowing sex and erotic play. I will always be grateful for the shared discovery of “spicy vanilla”. And it was lovely to spend time with someone whose values I shared and was genuinely a lovely person. And I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much with anyone else, ever…

    Being techie, Welsh-speaking and having practical skills I didn’t, were unexpected and delightful bonuses – I hope he continues to have fun and rewarding times.

    I am saddened but not broken and am feeling curious about what the future will bring. I will miss having a regular weekend companion, but the flexibility will be exciting.

    So where am I? My cross-dressing Spiritual Elf is a regular companion for play, foot massages, blobbing and companionship according to work patterns. We’ve yet to have the make-up class!

    My 50-something chaotic time-poor slightly kinky widower is also back on the scene although only one meeting so far but have one further meet pencilled in. Hopefully weekend availabilities may mean we get to see more of each other…

    And the 29 year-old I met in the coffee shop may be available next weekend with promises of properly made tea in his teapot – not a euphemism! – and promises of massages and pleasure…

    I have updated my kink site profile and seem to have acquired some new followers and likes for what it’s worth… Having seen off my Time-poor Dom in another coffee shop the only recent interest is from a 20-something slave who is apparently willing to go to extremes of servitude but lives over thirty miles away and lacks practical transport. Rather than feed online fantasies, I’ve left it to him to think of a possible place for a safe initial meet and discontinued contact. I suspect that will be the last I hear of him. I was however curious why someone who only wanted to humbly serve had a gallery of dick pics on his profile page. I get, not posting face pics, but dicks don’t exactly scream servitude…

    And so life goes on. I’m just back from a week away in Torquay with a female friend and now have an unexpectedly quiet weekend. I could unpack, sort out my pantry, catch up with admin and do a million things, but I probably won’t!

    I will miss playing house and practising my Welsh and so much more with my lovely West Walian, but am grateful for the pleasure, companionship, sex, kink and fun he brought into my life.

  • Playing “House”, “Rental Family”, Mistresses and Fake Girlfriends…

    As so often – my chaotic brain is all over the place making weird – and not so weird – connections…

    So – anyone play “house” as a kid? I don’t know if this is a Welsh thing or a working class one or something else. In literature – and I’m talking from kids’ stuff to novels – children play “Mothers and fathers” and indulge in “imaginative play”. When we kids played at being grown-ups, if it wasn’t “school” or “shop” it was “house” we played.

    So – as a perpetual spinster, I have been fortunate to have had mostly great men in my life, and have loved having them stay with me overnight, weekends and longer. We do nice things together as well as the sex and kink stuff. We watch TV, play board games, chat, and generally chill. I will cook meals, and they sometimes cook for me. We eat out, have days out and holiday together. And I have a lovely time. And every now and then, I think it’s a grown-up and very enjoyable version of “House” for which I am grateful.

    Whether I have been monogamous partner/significant other/plus one/whatever or one of my versions of friend with benefits, my relationships have been mostly rewarding. And as a live-out lover I have never dealt with discarded pants in the bathroom; arguments about the washing up and putting out bins; shared finances; headaches over children and so many other everyday realities of couples who’ve taken a more traditional journey. I’m not knocking it – couples living together works so well for so many people whether lifelong or serially.

    But I have enjoyed the life of a single person household. And as well as playing “house”, I have also thought it is a bit like being a mistress – as in the “other woman”. A relatively stress-free coming together for mutual pleasure – sexual and otherwise – without shared household stress can be very relaxing and rewarding. Of course, there is the ordinary relationship tensions of “the relationship”, life and the two personalities, but with less extraneous “stuff” taking its toll.

    I know of two couples who chose to keep separate accommodation, despite actually marrying. One person literally bought the house next door to her partner then husband. The other couple lived different sides of the city and stayed with each other depending on whether they wanted to be more central or less or who was doing hosting. And then one moved to a rural home and they spent time together and apart in the country or city. I happen to have seen her city home dungeon/playroom, but don’t know if he has similar…

    Meanwhile, I am thoroughly enjoying my polyamorous lifestyle and spending time with the men in my life, and once again, it has occurred to me we sort of provide “fake boy/girlfriends” for each other. As with past FwBs we know exactly what we are and where we stand, and tell others as appropriate. But people make assumptions – and now that I’m in my seventies – it’s husband rather than lover! Sometimes we put people right – but when booking a holiday cottage, buying a cooker or being a “plus one” at a conference – it makes no sense to tell people our “situationship”! But we can have the couple experience when it suits us.

    And these thoughts also emerged when I saw the rather good film “Rental Family” recently. It has the interesting premise of an actor playing the part as friend, family member or romantic interest to people who lack such a person in real life – like a sexless escort service. Of course, it got complex when emotions were triggered and only the hirer was aware of the fakery. But it also highlighted the idea of “chosen family” which has become so important to many, especially those who have been or felt marginalised. Worth a watch, I thought.

    While my relationships with my delightful friends/lovers are absolutely authentic, we get lovely experiences of domesticity, companionship, and couples stuff without the daily grind of meals on tables, drains, choosing an insurance provider and “Should we re-decorate?”. Although of course – we all have to manage the everydaynesses for ourselves and on our own!

  • The joys of polyamory – Sitting in another coffee shop…

    Well – I now have a new/old younger lover and had a second meeting with my very young potential lover. But at the moment I am nursing a heart attack in a cup – a delicious salted caramel iced drink topped off with cream – and awaiting a man who arranged to meet me half an hour ago…

    Lol –  Well, that went well – now on my own again – amused rather than annoyed.

    Man in question is a time-poor Dom looking for connections/play-partners. He contacted me via the kink site. We’ve met once and I liked him but wasn’t sure if there was enough chemistry to take things further.

    So today he was able to meet me and I turned up on time.

    Two minutes before allocated time he messaged to say he was aiming for half an hour later! I messaged back that it was a bit late to let me know and as a punctual person I was already here. I absolutely expected an apology.

    He arrived and asked how I was. I responded that I was annoyed and a message 2 minutes before our meeting time should have been an apology and not a rearrangement. He looked confused and attempted to justify and I made it clear I expected an apology. He shook his head, picked up his drink and left!

    Don’t think I’ve had a man walk off in a huff since I was a youngster!

    Am now sipping my delicious calorie-laden beverage and chuckling inwardly. I guess I no longer have to wonder about our compatibility!

    Further reflections…

    Of course this is one side of a sorry tale. He messaged to say he would not stand for being spoken to in “that way” and would have understood that it was just life in a reverse situation. Perhaps I was quick to have a go, but I know if I’d rearranged a time two minutes before expected arrival time I’d have been full of apologies not talking about aiming for a later time. Definitely had different world views.

    And I guess three lovers and a potential fourth is more than enough! I don’t want to be greedy, and I am not actively seeking new lovers, but there is something exciting about being open to possibilities…

  • Eclipses I have witnessed

    After a search through all the drawers in a bureau that contain trash, treasure and vital info along with out-of-date lip salve and dubious electronics, I found it – my piece of welder-standard glass!

    Like many of my age – my first memorable eclipse was in 1999. I remember all the garages had stocks of eclipse glasses, and I think some were given free with some newspapers. My then-partner and I had taken an old gentleman to Rookwood Hospital in Cardiff for an appointment, so we – with lots of hospital workers watched it from the hospital grounds. It wasn’t total, but it was impressive and felt like a real occasion. The media attention around it was massive and “Ian Beale” was apparently down the West Country for it, on an episode of East Enders,

    The background to the next one I remember was sometime around 2010 perhaps the 2008 one… There were no glasses around this time, but a man I was seeing at the time – a gentle, kinky Scotsman and perfect gentleman – suggested welder-standard glass. And we found some from a unit on the local trading estate.

    I don’t remember watching the eclipse with him, but have a memory of going into my street on my own with my bit of glass and sharing it with a school-age boy of one of my neighbours and also with a young man who I think had learning disabilities. May have been that eclipse or the next one.

    My most impressive viewing was a total eclipse in the North Carolina town of Murphy in the USA in 2017 – and I have two t-shirts to prove it! It was spectacular. It was a crazy hot day, and the daylight didn’t disappear, but became dusk and was seriously spooky. It was something my lovely friend-with-benefits D had always wanted to see, so we did – along with a trip through Cherokee, Shenandoah and the Blue Ridge mountains of Virginia!

    This week, having located the piece of glass I went out around the back of my house to witness the eclipse as it was drawing to its extreme of a sliver. I saw neighbours from the next street with bits of paper and colanders so approached them with my bit of glass. Once the kids had had a look everyone else did too. And then I then went around the corner to share with a near-neighbour and friend and once again shared with a group who were also out – including a woman looking through two pairs of sunglasses! I guess there are always people who don’t take warnings seriously, or full understand…

    I loved my first view of this amazing sight, but it was fun having a communal experience as well.

  • Swinging doors – the joy of polyamory…

    Anyone remember the quote from “The Sound of Music” about God opening a window where a door is closed? Welcome to the swinging doors of opportunity and the joys of polyamory…

    So – my lovely sub-identifying-but–switchy-polyamorous-lover-etc has been somewhat busy this weekend and last as culture and family have drawn him away. I miss him, but free weekends to indulge myself are rather nice too.

    While the S-I-B-S-P-L-etc has been Eisteddfod-ing and catching up with kin I have had a rather quiet time catching up with friends, having my toenails painted, visiting my sister and rediscovering the joys of “Only Murders in the Building” plus days of rereading “The Clan of the Cave Bear” books.

    I had a delightful Friday of soup-making and domesticity that included tackling a washing-up mountain. My lovely cross-dressing Spiritual Elf had demolished a similar pile earlier in the week before giving me an amazing massage, but this time I was on my own! It was nice to restore order though, as I went on to make some rather good chicken, leek and lettuce soup. I also spent time with my friend who’d just lost her elderly dog. Earlier I’d blogged, listened to the radio and devoured chunks of Ayla’s exploits on her great journey after hunting mammoths and other amazing exploits.

    As usual I did my Duo-lingo – my repertoire now included French and “maths” as well as Welsh – the maths so far is arithmetic – started with 2+2 level, but now I’m having to think more as it has moved up to fractions, factors and percentages – a great brain workout!

    My lovely day of solitary pleasures included sending cards to friends, some shopping and lots of TV, radio and reading as well as home-made food – my lovely soup and left-over roast chicken.

    And my solitary pleasures continued…but remember the rather nice, handsome man twenty years my junior I had pencilled-in in my diary? He was a chaotic time-poor, slightly kinky widower with school age children looking for a connection but not a full-on relationship but kept me happily satisfied throughout the Covid years and beyond.

    Well – my CT-PSKW was pencilled in for Saturday, but I was stood up for the collection of his unhappy son from a festival! As Sunday was an option for us both I agreed. And my Saturday on my own was equally pleasant.

    So – there I was in stockings and appropriate footwear awaiting my first erotic encounter with my CT-PSKW when I get a message. I assume it may be him, but no – it’s a message from the young man I’d met in the coffee shop. He is in my area this afternoon and wanted to know if I’m still up for sharing a pot of tea? I said yes, and could be meeting him this afternoon! Did I say he is 29?!

    Meanwhile – I have an amazing session with my delightful 50-something CT-PSKW as our bodies seem to remember despite the few years since our last encounter. We’re both pleased we can still turn each other on so easily, and that I can still wrap my legs over his shoulders and behind his neck. I tell him about the kind gods of tai-chi that keep me reasonably supple, despite the challenges of age…

    Meanwhile my lovely S-I-B-S-P-L-etc will be seeing his Mistress at some point and has a Domme/Goddess-sub event inscribed in his virtual diary for September. And next weekend we will be together, celebrating his birthday and he has mentioned “pampering” will be on the cards…

    Ethical sluttery and polyamory are a fascinating way to start one’s seventies…

  • Toprankin’ with Siouxsie in the seventies – Punk memories

    I was deeply uncool in my youth. Unlike some of my best friends, I did not go to amazing gigs and damage my eardrums by being too close to the speakers at concerts. I missed most of the bands that came to Cardiff and only embraced many of my favourite ones in later years.

    I remember punk as weird, and was cynical about the mohawks and safety pins and saw them as tourist fodder on London postcards and photo opportunities. I was passingly amused by the peaches on the beaches and the Sex Pistols’ Jubilee “celebration” of “God Save the Queen”. And that was about it.

    It seems Punk is still going strong and there is a huge celebration/event somewhere today that set me thinking. I was pretty sure I saw Siouxsie and the Banshees in Cardiff Top Rank! And amazingly – I did! I went with a cooler friend and felt like a tourist and remember watching all the punks going wild from an upper balcony. I remember that she looked amazing, sang powerfully and gave dire warnings to anyone even thinking of spitting at her! I guess spitting was a tribute too far…

    My suspicions of my own memories is because I think of punk as something that came along when I was older, and not part of my cultural heritage! Siousxie went Toprankin’ in 1977 and 78 – so I would have been all of 22 or 23! That absolutely makes sense as that was when I was spending time with that particular friend. I guess my disassociation comes from my lack of interest at the time, but although still not a fan, I can see how amazing Punk was as a breakaway from where pop and rock were going in the seventies.

    My other punk memory comes from going to a Welsh language recording of a punk band in Cardiff that would have been a little earlier as it was when I was involved with a very enthusiastic Welsh learner, James, with certain obsessions I met on a Welsh learners’ weekend….

    Now this may make sense to those who remember the seventies, but everyone seemed to own a digital watch and some were very complicated. James’s was very complex indeed. I remember he seemed obsessed with his watch, the Welsh language and motorbikes. He was attractive and seemed interested in me, but somehow nothing happened and I returned to Cardiff. And then we bumped into each other. I knew that anything we started, was going to be sexual and it seemed like an interesting idea and cure for my mooning after my third lover whose loss had hit me hard. I soon added ‘sex’ to James’s list of interests!

    He was straight forward and really enjoyed sex. And it was fun and uncomplicated. I told him he was my fourth and he’d actually lost count of his sexual partners and would remember another one at the oddest moment – and apparently, I was rather good despite my limited back catalogue!

    So this Welsh-speaking watch-obsessed biker invited me to a recording of some Welsh language “youth” programme featuring a Welsh language punk band. I was fascinated! I think it was at either the HTV or BBC studios in Cardiff and was all very organised. They looked the part, sang wild Welsh punk and stomped about menacingly and the young audience obligingly gyrated. And in between, the young performers spoke in beautifully accented, rather posh-sounding, attractively modulated perfect-sounding Welsh when asked for retakes or close-ups. It felt like a perfect symbiosis and a great dramatic performance.

  • Memory lapse! – a quite kinky “party”!

    I can’t believe I’ve not yet written about this – but I repeat -I am over 70 you know!  Anyway – over two weeks ago I attended an event organised by a member of the kink site. She organised or helped to organise a couple of Domme/Goddess-sub events my lovely sub-identifying-but–switchy-polyamorous-lover-etc had attended and enjoyed very much.

    This event was in a sports bar that she hired for exclusive use with the bar providing the staff. There was no “play” or nudity allowed, but fetish-wear was encouraged. It was open to members of kink site and a site used – I believe – for swingers and people looking for like-minded hook-ups/casual encounters.

    The S-I-B-S-P-L-etc opted for smart casual, but I decided to give one of my new risqué little black dresses an airing. It’s not full-on sex party/boudoir wear but is one of the naughtier Hell Bunny creations. I love HB for their flirty 50s stuff, but this is next level – a corset top with short full skirt and metal fastenings – very cute but not quite everyday wear for a seventy-one year old!

    We needed to eat before the do, but I didn’t fancy the faff of changing at the venue, so I wore my fabulous dress with open crotch fishnet tights and red boots, but covered up with a sarong tied wrap so I was almost respectable looking on a super-hot July evening.

    Most guests at the do had opted for sexy party wear so I didn’t feel out of place. There were also Dommes in amazing corsets, super sexy plunging necklines, bovva boots and scary high-heels. They were only upstaged by the gorgeous cross-dressers in figure hugging PVC, skyscraper heels and outrageous underwear. And then Cat-Woman sashayed in! S/he wore a shiny black one-piece like a swimsuit with no arse and a thong back! She also wore the most amazing shiny high-heeled thigh length boots, all topped off with cute cat ears!

    Some Dom men also peacocked in top-hats, leather and metal and I enjoyed the show. The staff didn’t turn a hair, and everyone just chatted away and caught up with each other. My lovely S-I-B-S-P-L-etc caught up with the folk he’d bonded with at the Domme/Goddess-sub events and all felt very fun and chilled.

    And then there were the party games/mingling. All at a level I assume you’d get at a swinging event or at a hen do – racy “bingo” where you find strangers and ask if they own silk sheet or enjoy sex in public – and then mark off a square of your bingo card for every “yes”. This was followed by musical chairs, where you had to find a vacant chair if you’d ghosted a lover or been a “red flag”. For some reason my partner-in-crime stayed seated while this was going on! I stared up in disbelief as he stayed seated to the “ever been spanked?” query while practically the whole room searched for a vacant chair. I was not the only starer – several cross-dressed subs and some impressive Dommes/Goddesses also reacted to his lack of movement – it seems likely they’ll all remember at his next Domme/Goddess-sub event…

  • Scarlet women, Ian Dury, pudendas, “Toy Story”, new neighbours and invasive thoughts…

    “Oh! And note to self – must remember to write about new neighbours, being the Scarlet Woman, spanking to the beat of ‘Hit me with your Rhythm Stick’, tai-chi qi gong-meanderings, and ‘Pudenda to Infinity!’…”

    Ok – here I go…

    I have new neighbours. They were looking around the house before moving in, just as I and my lovely cross-dressing Spiritual Elf were off for lunch. I had a quick word and welcomed them and left. I saw them the following day and he referred to my companion and asked if it was my husband. I said no – a friend. And added I had other friends. Then compounded it by saying his predecessor had told a mutual neighbour that I had a lot of male visitors! Luckily, he was entertained by the thought of this seventy-one-year-old  having “gentlemen callers” and laughed “Good for you!” I guess it was fresh on my mind as I’d only been told this gossip about me about recently.

    So – on Sunday, my wonderful sub-identifying-but–switchy-polyamorous-lover-etc decided I needed a thrashing. So, mindful of neighbours in general and new next-door neighbours we closed the windows and I was dithering about choice of music. And that’s when he masterfully ordered Alexa to play Mr Dury’s masterpiece “Hit me With Your Rhythm Stick”! Not only did I get beaten with a huge selection of my toy box, but it was also in rhythm and sometimes accompanied by him singing along! No wonder I was practically hysterical with laughter, despite the pain – he did not hold back too much.

    And so to my lovely life-enhancing, spiritual sessions of tai-chi qi gong, where I practice mindfulness check in with my qi/life-force/energy and attempt serenity. It is absolutely wonderful and is soothing and harmonious and keeps me flexible – but my mind does wander…

    Some qi gong moves have fabulously evocative names like painting a rainbow and flying like a wild goose. Others are a bit more prosaic as we raise arms or row a boat.

    So – there I was doing my qi gong and had passing thoughts about the fact the new Toy Story film is out. And as I went from painting a rainbow to separating the clouds I clasped my hands loosely in front of my crotch and thought “pudenda” is a much nicer word than any of those others to describe that area and felt more in tune with the practice of qi gong . It also coincides with the “Dantian point” which is the centre of the qi life-force. And as I raised my arms to separate the cloud I was thinking of Buzz Lightyear’s catchphrase and had the sudden notion of spreading my life force and thought – “My pudenda to infinity!” as I loosed the energy from my Dantian to the clouds… it gave me an inner giggle as well as a good stretch…

    And as my mind was partly in the gutter already, I got to thinking about neighbours. Back in the seventies, we had a single parent move into the street. Funny to think back but she was unusual enough in that community and those times to be known as the divorcee. And I remember the gossip about her male visitors – it was quite exciting and while she didn’t have to wear a red A, she was definitely the nearest we had to a Scarlet Woman in my youth. And I had a sudden thought – as a polyamorous spinster in my seventies with gentlemen callers I could well be the street’s current Scarlet Woman!