I've got nothing against Dogs, but I'm definately a Cat Person
Why cats should be on my mind just at the moment, I really can't say. Oh, we've got one here at The Manse alright, but she's such a docile and pampered pet that I doubt she'd be able to catch a mouse, even if it ran across her paws. It was really triggered by my train of thought on seeing the words for my Three Hundred and Twentythird Sentence on Quadrivial Quandary and therefore also The Adventures of Daphne and Maude. The process is perfectly logical. Quantal generally means something which can either be one thing or another: Black or White, Man or Woman, Alive or Dead and that naturally made me think of Schrödinger’s Cat, although the cat is not actually Alive or Dead: it is Alive and Dead, albeit separately.
     At School I studied – or read, at least – T S Eliot: The Wasteland, The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats – and my favourite of them (I suppose most people's) is
Macavity – The Mystery Cat!
Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw -
For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law.
He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair:
For when they reach the scene of crime -
Macavity's not there!
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity.
His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare,
And when you reach the scene of crime -
Macavity's not there!
You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air -
But I tell you once and once again,
Macavity's not there!
Macavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin;
You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in.
His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed;
His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed.
He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake;
And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity.
You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square -
But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there!
He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.)
And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's.
And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled,
Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled,
Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair -
Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there!
And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray,
Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way,
There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair -
But it's useless to investigate - Macavity's not there!
And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say:
'It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away.
You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs,
Or engaged in doing complicated long division sums.
Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity,
There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity.
He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare:
At whatever time the deed took place -
MACAVITY WASN'T THERE!
And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known,
(I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone)
Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time
Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime.

And it is only fair to mention Macavity's North British competitor, Sam The Skull, written and sung by Alastair McDonald. Sam is The Glasgow Cat and possibly even more than a match for Macavity, at least, so my Cousins in the West say!

I'm a cat, I'm a cat, I'm a Glasgow cat and my name is Sam The Skull.
I've got claws in my paws like a crocodile's jaws and a hied like a fairmer's bull.
I'm no' the kind of cat that sits on the mat nor the kind that you gie a hug
but I'm the kind of cat can swallie a rat or even the occaisional dog.
Noo I used to roam about in Shettleston where they all knew me by sight
"Here's the skull" "here's the skull" you could here them yell as they vanished intae the night
Noo the polis stations all aroond have bars on the windie sills
but they're no to keep the prisoners in they're to keep oot Sam The Skull

I'm a cat, I'm a cat, I'm a Glasgow cat and my name is Sam The Skull.
I've got claws in my paws like a crocodile's jaws and a hied like a fairmer's bull.
Noo I'm no' the kind of cat that sits on the mat nor the kind that you gie a hug
but I'm the kind of cat can swallie a rat or even the occaisional dog.
Noo one fine day no' so long ago they all had had their fill
and they sent for the R.S.P.C.A. to try and catch the Skull
There was naebody could get oot when I was aboot chasin all the weans up the close
Wettlin on the shoes yodelin' the blues and nonchalantly pickin' my nose

I'm a cat, I'm a cat, I'm a Glasgow cat and my name is Sam The Skull.
I've got claws in my paws like a crocodile's jaws and a hied like a fairmer's bull.
I'm no' the kind of cat that sits on the mat nor the kind that you gie a hug
but I'm the kind of cat that can swallie a rat or even the occaisional dog.
Aboot half past two the boys in blue arrived in their Escort van
Right roon the back one had a sack the other had a mallet in his hand
I watched them creep tae the back of the close, Then I casually strolled tae the van
I jumped through the door stuck my foot tae the floor everything had gone tae plan
You can hear them say doon Shettleston way, "What became of Sam the Skull?
He had claws in his paws like a crocodile's jaws, and a heid like a framer's bull."
just you tell them for me that I'm still running free and never a day is dull
It may sound absurd but I'm livin' wi' a bird in a single end in Maryhill

I'm a cat, I'm a cat, I'm a Glasgow cat and my name is Sam The Skull.
I've got claws in my paws like a crocodile's jaws and a hied like a fairmer's bull.
I'm no' the kind of cat that sits on the mat nor the kind that you gie a hug
but I'm the kind of cat that can swallie a rat or even the occaisional dug!

Try Youtube, and see how it sounds. Or hear how it sounds. Or just have a laugh!

He is my Man, and I am his Little Girl
Jimmy was true to his word – he made it a proper day out for us, drove me up to Fort William and we spent about an hour in the swimming pool, where he fucked me twice in the deep end, while he was
treading water and anyone watching, though I didn't notice anyone, would have just seen us chatting, and inbetween we swam a bit and he spoke to some of the mums who all recognized him and he promised to give them autographs later, which he did when we met up with them in the cafeteria. Oh it was magic! Then he took me to a swanky restaurant for lunch and then we did a bit of sight-seeing, We even took the cable-car up Ben Nevis. It was cold up there, but we had a look around the gift shop and he bought me some souvenirs and we had coffees and he signed some mre autographs. I noticed acouple of girls giving him the eye – I bet they would have given him a blow-jobs just so they could brag to their pals about it. I did wonder if he might have copped off with them if I wasn't there, but I was and he didn't. They looked daggers at me but I just gave them the fingers as we walked past them to the cable-car. We had it to ourselves for the journey down, so I went down and sucked him off, while he held my head steady and fucked my mouth hard and came right down my throat. He really was a randy old sod and I absolutely loved him for it. It was great being his girl.
     Back at the cottage he found he'd received a phone message from Martin. Saying he was coming up and could stay for a couple of nights. That got Jimmy in high spirits. And I knew why – he liked fucking me, but he liked fucking me with someone else even more. And his mood was infectious, so I was pretty high and had a couple of Voddies inside me when we saw Martin's car drive in. He gave me a big hug and a deep snog assoon as he came in the door, then he and Jimmy hugged like the two mates they were. And then they spit-roasted me, twice, cos each one took a turn at my mouth and them my See You Next Tuesday. And both times they worked it so that they came at the same time and high fived above me, God, I was knackered after that, but that wasn't the end of it. We had a bit to eat and the two of them caught up on some news about friends of theirs – other folk in their Ring of Gold as they called it. I'd heard them talk about it before, but I never paid much attention to it, though by this time I probably knew the names of all the members just from their chat. And I'd already been fucked by quite a lot of them.
     Martin said he was negotiating to buy some Tower in the Borders for the Ring and he'd set up a Holding Company, whatever that was, with himself as the Chief Executive and all the members of The Ring as the Board. It would be a special place with each member having a key and guaranteed to give them privacy if they wanted to bring any young friends down for the weekend or for a party. Now I wasn't born yesterday and I knew what kind of parties they liked: forget cake and balloons, they liked hard shagging and young girls and boys.
     Jimmy told Martin about the incident the previous day when that record was played on Radio 1 and he said he was still angry about it. He seemed to notice me looking a bit puzzled, which was just because I liked the tune to dance to, and Martin explained that The Law was, what he called, an Ass, and explained that didn't mean a Bum, but just stupid. He said that over the past century or so, the Age of Consent which meant the age when it was okay to fuck girls, had been going up by a year or so at a time and was now 16, which was the age when you could get married. He said that there was a group of men who felt true and genuine love for young girls and they were called Paedophiles, because that was the Latin name for Loving Children. There was an organisation called the Paedophile Information Exchange, or PIE for short, which I thought was funny and cool, and it was
just a loose group which exchanged information and pictures and stuff and tried to educate the public and, more importantly, politicians, about the reality which, he said, was that girls younger than 16 ar quite able to say whether or not they want to be fucked, and he asked me if I felt I was old enough – and I said “of course I am, and I love it!” which I could see got his cock pretty erect inside his shorts. And he said that it was ok, because I was 13 and asked if I thought younger girls should have the right to
say yes or no for themselves, and I had a think about that. “I think a girl of ten or eleven should, and maybe nine, but I don't know about younger.” And Jimmy said: would it make a difference if it was their dad, or an uncle, and I thought about that and said, “yeah, that would be okay, because they know them – I spect it's different with a stranger,” and Jimmy poured me another drink and said I was pretty smart, and then Martin said; “a stranger is just someone who hasn't fucked you yet,” which I thought was brilliant and so true cos once he's fucked you, how can he be a stranger? I always knew Martin was a famous lawyer, but this was the first time I understood why he was so famous. He always knew how to put things that you just couldn't argue against.

Primum non nocere: First, Do no Harm

This Sunday, in the absence of one of the local Ministers, I will be preaching my first sermon for a while. I based it on the Latin phrase: Primum non nocere, which is contained within the Hippocratic Oath, taken by Doctors and other medical practitioners. I won't post it in it's entirety, because, written, it is far too long. Briefly, my Sermon examines those of the Ten Commandments that are, perhaps, unnecessary, if we hold to the simple precept contained within these four words. Of course the Oath goes on to give active guidance, for simply doing no harm does not cover necessary interventions if doctors are to save their patients limbs and lives, although walking away from, say, an accident, can be said to do as much harm as causing it in the first place.
     The first Four Commandments are specifically about our relationship as humans, with God, or duties, also given in the Fourth, to keep the Lord's Day Holy which, sadly, has for many in this country and others become just another working day. The Fifth expressly states how we ought to behave, with respect, to our Parents – who gave us this life.
     The second half, the last Five Commandments, are instructions about what we are NOT to do: Kill, Commit Adultery, Steal, Bear false Witness, or Covet that which belongs to others. And I would argue that, away from the practice of medicine, the Commandment to Do No Harm, sums them up.
I am the LORD thy God
No graven images or likenesses
Not take the LORD's name in vain
Remember the sabbath day
Honour thy father and thy mother
Thou shalt not kill
Thou shalt not commit adultery
Thou shalt not steal
Thou shalt not bear false witness
Thou shalt not covet
And if everyone simply accepted and abided by the instruction, First, Do No Harm, think what a better world we would live in.
     You may be forgiven for wondering how I will manage to take the usual 15 minutes for this Sermon. I am a great fan of Just a Minute on BBC Radio 4 and, I believe, on The World Service, with fans everywhere that is received. A simple game, devised by Ian Messiter many years ago and based on the Parlour Game in which contestants have to speak for one minute on a particular subject without Hesitation, Deviation or Repetition and what a dread we experienced when it became our turn and were given something like: Why eggs are not Spherical or Why we See in Colour, A Day in the Life of a Penny, and Einstein's General Theory of Relativity!
     Yes, my Family – the extended Family – was rather peculiar, but those were happy days and we young people were brought up to respect others and treat everyone as we would wish to be treated ourselves. And we quickly learned how to speak for a minute without Hesitation, Deviation or Repetition, so a 15 minute Sermon isn't too great a challenge. Especially when it is written beforehand and practised ant therefore not extemporized!

     I have twice in my life been called on to make an impromptu speech at an event where I was supposed to be merely one of the guests. One was a Community Association Burns Supper where no-one had been prepped to give the Toast: To the Immortal Memory (of Robert Burns, for those who didn't know or have never been to a Burns Supper); and the other was at a Community Council's Annual General Meeting when the election was being held for the Officers – Chair, Secretary, and Treasurer, posts for which the candidates have normally either put themselves forward already or who have been browbeaten into accepting, nut on this occasion, when I was merely there as the friend of one of the newly elected Councillors with whom I was going out to dinner that evening. Normally someone, perhaps the retiring Chairperson or a local Regional or District Councillor calls for nominations, the new Chairperson is elected and he or she conducts the rest of the proceedings. Unfortunately no-one fitting those designations was present and all eyes fixed on my Clerical Collar, that bane of life for Ministers or Religion and one which I usually discard or cover with a muffler on
evenings off in the company of a woman friend – I don't often find myself spending the evening with a Man Friend, for obvious reasons. Anyway on this occasion it seemed, in the eyes of the villagers who had turned up, to qualify me for this initial task, and it took just over an hour to fill the post of Chairperson and my friend, who wasn't in the running having just been elected for the first time, said afterwards that I had spoken during that hour for 50 minutes without Hesitation, Repetition or Deviation and she felt I deserved a reward which she intended to give me in person once we got back to her cottage. That was one of the best prizes I have ever won and we are still very good friends and occasional lovers whenever our paths converge and we have some time to spare for more than pleasantries and the occasion permits.
     So, you see, although we are now adults and are expected to put away our childish things, there is often still a place for them in our adult lives and so we should not discard everything or we might throw away the baby with the bathwater and here I still my pen and reach for a warming Hot Toddy on a cold and wintry night, Amen!

Young Girl, Get outa my Mind
Later that day, when Jimmy was doing his Press-Ups with his cock inside me, and we were listening to Radio 1 – which was the only station Jimmy ever listened too, cos it was the one he worked for -and as usual Jimmy was keeping in time to whatever was playing, always keeping up his chatter about the DJ, the music, the ban, their producer or label, and he seemed to know everything about everybody, he suddenly stiffened and his cock was like a broom-handle up my See You Next Tuesday, and his face had turned red and his eyes staring, from what I could see, looking up his nose, and I got a fright, in case he was having a heart attack or a stroke or something, cos I couldn't move with him on top of me and holding may arms out by my wrists, and he began to rant about the record playing, it was one that I liked though I'd never really thought about the words, all I listened to records for was to dance to them, the words didn't mean anything to me, but they did to Jimmy, and he was spluttering and spittle fell on my face and he wasaying: “That cunt Gary Fuckit and the Fucking Union Crap! I've told them not to play it! It's a load of shit! Fucking Bastards! What do they know?” and he went on and on and I wondered what it was all about and in my memory I found the record and filtered out the music so I could only hear the voice singing:
“Young girl, get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl
With all the charms of a woman
You've kept the secret of your youth
You led me to believe
You're old enough
To give me Love
And now it hurts to know the truth
Whaoo-oh-oh
Young girl, get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl
Beneath your perfume and make-up
You're just a baby in disguise
And though you know
That it's wrong to be
Alone with me
That come on look is in your eyes
Whaoo-oh-oh
Young girl, get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl
So hurry home to your Mama
I'm sure she wonders where you are
Get out of here
Before I have the time
To change my mind
'Cause I'm afraid we'll go too far
Whaoo-oh-oh
Young girl, get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl
Young girl, get out of my mind
My love for you is way out of line
Better run, girl
You're much too young, girl,”
and that set me thinking, wondering, was I too young for Jimmy, for Martin, for George Gill and the others? And I cam back to the present and Jimmy was shagging me harder than ever before and it was'nt in time to the music any more, it was in time to his rant:
“Fucking Cunts! Fucking Bastards! Fucking Idiots! They don't know! They can't Fuck! It's all Shite! She's! Not! Too! Young! She's! Mine! And! No! Fuck! Ing! Cunt's! Gonna! Tell! Me! I! Can't! Shag! Who! I! Want!!!” and, of course it went on long after that cos he was really worked up and I lost track of the time until he finally came inside me like a fireman's hose squirting out shed's loads of his
spermy spunk so that when he withdrew and rolled onto his back beside me I could feel it dripping out of me, but he put and arm under my head, round my neck and pulled me close to him and turned to face me and I was just looking at him and thinking that he was older thn=an my Dad, when he said: “Teri, you are the most beautiful girl I've ever had and you've got the best little cunt I've ever been in and no-one, and I repeat no-one, is ever gonna tell me you are too young! Do hear that? No-one is gonna stop us having the time of our lives and he grinned at me and I smiled back and he kissed me on the mouth then got up and lit a cigar for himself and gave me a ciggie and he poured us each a long vodka and he said: “Winston Churchill once said, 'a woman is just a woman, but a good cigar is a Smoke!' but he got it wrong: he should have said 'a woman is just a woman, and a good cigar is a smoke, but a Young Girl is a Shagger!@ and he started to laugh but it turned into a fit of coughing so I brought him a glass of water and he gulped it down. And after that he rseumed his usual chatter and everything was back to normal – or so it seemed!

Up amang the Heather in the Hills o Ben Magee!

I found the presence of Jimmy's friends quite stressful. His Personal Assistant was the first to arrive and the first to leave. She was rather eccentric in her own way, gave me the 'once-over' and then dismissed me with a few words. She and Jimmy were closeted together for a couple of hours, going over arrangements for the recording of two Jim'll Fix It! Shows during the following week. This was the first time I realised that a lot of apparently 'Live' shows on TV were in fact recordings. Usually, it seemed four shows would be recorded over two days, and that then left Jimmy free for his other work. Top of The Pops was live, but Jimmy was only one of the presenters, and his next one was in a fortnight. I had been hoping that Jo and I would be on JFI! soon, but that wasn't to be. Jimmy's PA told me that we would need to be available for recording in about a month, and said that she would give me the details once she had met with the BBC producer on Monday or Tuesday. Then she went, and after waving her off, Jimmy fucked me on the sheepskin rug in front of the fire. He then fucked me upstairs in bed, three times before we fell asleep. I dreamt that he fucked me again while I was sleeping and in the morning, he told me that he had. I found that rather disturbing, but wasn't sure why.
     Then five friends of Jimmy's came and it was clear that they all had expectations of me. Jimmy introduced me to them, but I never got their names. They were all in the music business and had known Jimmy for years. One of them asked me if I had my school uniform and when I said I did, he asked me to put it on. They then played a game in which I was the pupil and they were examiners and
they took it in turn to ask me questions. If I got the right answer to a question from one, the next one asked me a question. If I was one wrong, he fucked me in front of the others. And then the next one had his turn. Most of the questions were fairly easy, and I think that was to give them time to recover, because suddenly I would be asked a difficult question which I didn't know the answer to, so I got fucked. If I got part of the answer right, and part wrong, I just had to suck the one who'd asked it. All in all, it passed an evening and I got fucked about 15 times, until they were all pretty knackered, and then they decided who I would go to bed with. That was done by drawing cards and the highest was the winner.
     One of them had no more spunk left and he just talked to me. I was brain-dead by the time he fell asleep and I could curl up beside him and go to sleep myself. The next day they spent a lot of time discussing business so I just went walking and climbed quite high ap the mountain behind the cottage. I didn't take any of the long zig-zag paths I could see, I just scrambled straight up. That was always the way I went up hills – Arthur's Seat or the Eildons, the very same way. In the evening the guys – who must have planned it, picked me up and held me by my arms and legs and took it in turn


to fuck me while I was suspended like that. But the last one got the others to put me down on a coffee table and he was rough when he fucked me, and though I cried out, none of the others stopped him. Things got a bit mixed up in my head for the rest of their stay, but I do remember that one night it

was a big heavy man who must have been taking those blue pills, cos he was inside me for hours. And on top of me, and he was really heavy and by the time he was finished I was so exhausted and sore I fell asleep straight away and slept for about eight hours solid.
     And on the last night, before they left, I got the oldest one, who had been rough with me and he tied me to the bed and fucked me so hard it hurt and he obviously liked hearing me cry out, because when I did, or asked him to go easy or stop, he just went at it even harder. I was embarrassed in the morning when I saw blood on the sheets as well as all the spunk stains and I took the bedding to the laundry room and managed to wash away the stains. After brunch, they all left – and asked Jimmy to keep getting new young girls for them and he laughed and said that I was his and he only loaned me out to them and that next time he'd be charging them to use me. I wasn't too happy about that.
     That afternoon, Jimmy took me down into Glencoe and we had a meal at a little pub where he was well known and where he offered to pay for our meal by letting the landlord fuck me, which the landlord accepted, and he took me through to the kitchen and fucked me there, over a table, and then let the others there, the chef and another, younger, guy, take their turn. I was worried about this keeping Jimmy waiting, but when they let me go, I found him sitting with a couple of university students, and he was chatting them up and when he saw me, he invited me to join them. Then he invited them to spend the night at the cottage and they came back with us. They were both Germans and were hiking around the Highlands, sometimes staying in Youth Hostels, or camping when they couldn't reach a Hostel, or getting B&B if the weather wasn't good.
     So we swapped around, and Jimmy fucked the girl while her boyfriend fucked me, and then
Jimmy and the boy fucked me, while the girl kissed me on the mouth and chewed my tongue! After that and a drink that Jimmy must have spiked, I think Jimmy and the boy did more things to me and the girl, because in the morning when I woke, with a splitting headache, I was awash with sperm and my lips were bruised and so were the insides of my thighs and the girl seemed to have had a bit of a hard fucking too. I didn't know who had done what, but Jimmy and the German boy were the best of chums, drinking and smoking cigars while me and the girl had showers and kinda woke ourselves up. We kissed in the shower, and she told me her name was Beata and that she really preferred girls to boys, but it was safer being with a boy on the road. She asked me my age and when I told her, she said I should be at home with my family, not having sex with an old man, and I tried to explain about me and Jimmy but she didn't seem to understand. She didn't know how famous he was and about his TV shows, so I just left it at that, although she was happy for me to suck and lick her See You Next Tuesday after saying I should be at home, and my age didn't seem to bother her then. Oh and she really came! And it was WOW!
     But soon after, it was time for the Germans to leave, though Beata gave me her address in Hamburg and told me her paresnts had seen The Beatles when they were over there before they became famous and her mum had a photo of her with John! And it was after they left that I knew I would had to leave too, because I was missing School and my parents should be worried, but there hadn't been any panic whenever I phoned them. They never challenged any of my lies and I felt that meant they didn't care about me. So leaving was easier thought than done, kinda obvious really, as I had no money, no transport, and no-one to go to who really wanted me, apart from Martin – he'd been in toun=ch with Jimmy to apologise for not getting up, but said he'd be here the following weekend. And anyway, I really liked Jimmy, and me and Jo really needed him to get us on the Show so I decided that I'd stay with him, wherever we went, till after the Show had been broadcast, so long as Jimmy still wanted me. I'd realised that Jimmy certainly wasn't a one-girl-guy and that my shelf life might soon be up, unless I gave him a lot of attention and encouraged him to do whatever he wanted, though I had no idea what that might involve; but Jo needed me to be strong and stick with it. So in the afternoon after the Germans had gone I asked Jimmy what his secret fantasies were, things that he wanted to do but
really couldn't or didn't get the chance – expecting him to tell me something involving dungeons and chains and stuff, but he said he didn't have any 'secret' ones, cos he just did whatever he fancied, so he wasn't frustrated or repressed his feelings, but then he thought for a bit and said: “well, as it happens, one thing I don't get much chance for is I really like fucking girls in a public swimming pool, when it's busy – sometimes they can be strangers, sometimes friends, like you, Teri, it doesn't really matter – would you be up for that?” and of course I was.
     It felt really risky and dangerous and I was amazed that someone so well-known as Jimmy would try it on with girls he didn't know in a pool like that, but he said he did, and it was maybe the risk that made him horny and it was obvious that just talking about was giving him a massive erection, so I went over and took a hold of it and slowly wanked him while he told me about it. He said that unfortunately it was usually the mums who came onto him at the Deep EnS, while their kids were getting swimming lessons in the Shallow End, and he explained that it was quite easy if the mum put her legs around him under the water, and he slid into her while above the water they kinda leaned back and just chatted while all the while he was slowly fucking her down below, and I was slowly wanking him now until I saw that little bead of pre-cum appear on the tip of his cock, and I lowered
my mouth over it and took it deep inside and when he just ever so slightly bucked his hips and shot his load right down the back of my throat, I swallowed and licked and sucked the lot and when I rose up again he said my face looked like the happiest girl in the world and he kissed me deep and sucked out what he could get and then took me up to bed and we curled into spoons, with him behind me and wrapped around me and keeping me safe with his cock deep up my bum and we slept like Babes in the Wood.

Read Me Like a Book

I've been reading faster than usual over the past week or two – whizzed through several of Simon Kernick's breathless race-against-time page turners: One By One is a variation on Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None, which was originally published in the UK in 1939 as Ten Little Niggers, the title being changed for the first US edition in 1940, although the original continued in the UK until the 1985 which seems quiter unbelievable now. Dead Man's Gift stars Scope, the hero of Stay Alive and is a three-part Kindle only story; a bit slower-paced than usual, but the good guys and the bad guys are not quite what you expect.
Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night carries the story of the redoubtable Canon's wooing of Hildegard further, while he also continues to dabble in detective work; and again in Sidney Chambers and The Problem of Evil and Sidnery Chambers and The Perils of the Night, both of which I am somehow reading simultaneously – which is easier on the Kindle than with real, physical books. I really like Sidney, and the other characters are believable and just like the people we all meet in our everyday lives. These are seductively quiet stories, told at an easy pace, which is quite fitting for the setting, though I am beginning to worry that the Vicar of Grantchester may find himself forced to move with Hildegard to Ely, for it seems that promotion in the Church of England is a bit like promotion in the Police Force, and involves a change of location with the new rank. But that would involve leaving DI 'Geordie' Keating, unless he was promoted to DCI and also found himself transferred. But I am jumping the gun – read on, Teri, and leave the plotting to James Runcie, who knows his Church well, being the son of a former Archbishop of Canterbury.

And I have just received a package from The Book People who sell most of their books in workplaces, schools and other organisations, but also online and I am looking forward to reading three from Barbara Pym and another trio by Patricia Wentworth. That should keep me out of mischief!