AFTERGLOW........ya know.

A woman never forgets her first kiss. Whether it takes place in the heat of summer or in the dead of winter, whether it is at sunrise or at sunset, that moment is indelibly seared into your brain, that first magical moment of soft lip touching soft lip and arms reaching up and around each other and bodies touching in an intimate fashion, whether you are the kisser or the kissee it’s a wonderful business and quite unforgettable,irrespective of whether you know what you are about or not.

At the time of my first kiss, I definitely did not know what I was about. As I confided in my best friend at the time, Rosalind, it wasn’t just a simple matter of locking lips with the first guy I saw in the morning, it was a matter of choosing the right guy , an experienced kisser with passable good looks and no offensive mouth or body odour. Not to mention the difficult of getting over the idea of having to swallow another person’s saliva. Ewww. Gross. Anyway, from my protestations, Rosie knew I didn’t have a clue what I was going on about. She was of the opinion that I should just go for it but shrugging off a lifetime of cautiousness was not proving easy……..

 Neverthelessi was determined, and  I knew what I wanted so my young man was happy to oblige me. Did I say my young man?  Oh,Yes!! At the time I had hooked myself a darling young fellow called Oliver who was as close to an ideal specimen of just post adolescent masculinity as a girl could get. It was a rare female who didn’t fall to drooling when he rolled his ebony frame up to the lady in question and smiled or simply said hi. And his voice. Ooooooooh.

Now let me tell you something about yours truly that I have not yet spilled out. I go gaga, simply , totally gaga ,over voices. Lasting friendships have been forged on the basis of how the individual rates on my personal voice-o-metre. I had this friend once who voice could send shivers down every feminine spine in a fifty mile radius when he was rumbling out conversation to his cronies. Ahh Gary, he was something else. His vibes shivered my timbers alright. But I was telling you about Oliver. I know I must seem to be dithering here and there with innocuous anecdotes and random tales but patience, Dear Reader, patience. The taste of the pudding is in the eating, no matter how long it takes to prepare.

So like I was saying, I had attached myself to dear dear Ollie (without giving him much choice in the matter I must add) with an unladylike haste (bearing in mind my fast approaching twentieth birthday I’m sure you will find it in your heart to overlook this hmm) by the simple expedient of brushing up behind him, stroking his chest and saying “I need you to kiss me”. It worked like a charm and hey presto I was set up for kissing lessons with pass plus and further tuition available on demand. It probably didn’t hurt that I had like the quintessential ugly duckling blossomed, if not into a swan ,then at least into a passable duck with preen able feathers and a water resistant back.


We are sailing  by Rod Stewart brings back fond memories of a time of innocence and love. it's a gentle and peaceful song, romantic in it's own way. I will say no more.