What the fuck did I do?

Got a race on Sunday. Me and a few other thousand souls, our soles wearing away the blacktop highway out of the city and back again. Early morning chill, visible breath and the moans and groans of Yorkshire weather will soon give way to huffing and puffing and the slap of rubber on tarmac. And before an hour is out 90% will be back and heading home for well deserved hot baths and hotter drinks.

I carry two specific aches right now. One at the back of my left knee that was conjured up by my awe-inspiring victory in the recent 3K. A victory of such magnitude, such magnificence, such awesome-osity that in times to come, children will ask great-grandparents in reverential hushed tones where they were the night the Sexy MoFo single-footedly achieved the only win of his far from illustrious career. To which the reply will come, "Watching EastEnders probably". My second ache is a dull monotone in my right calf, which may presage worse to come, or may just be "I'm over 40 and never a day goes by that something doesn't hurt".

And there are more ethereal aches and pains, less physical, more emotional. One is concerning me right now, someone who's gone missing for a couple of days and whose last words suggested unhappiness. I'm sure she will re-appear soon, but the lack of reply from messages sent is distracting. I have another friend who can take up to a week to reply to texts or calls, and I've got used to that, although I still prefer a timely reply. And then there are the fissures in family that are cracking ever wider. Not the marital home, I hasten to add, but parents and siblings. Brothers who remember childhood so differently to me (I don't consider myself a survivor of physical or emotional abuse, but he does), fathers who are close to the end of days, and then the two of them who can no longer communicate except through discussions of Hollywood movies of the 1930s. And my brother has expressed relief at the thought of my father's passing.

But as Fat Tony says (Soprano, not Simpson), What you gonna do?

By the way, I know I'm late to the party, but I have been muchly enjoying the African-inspired New Yorker noodlings of Vampire Weekend since last week end. Crap name though.

I'm footloose this afternoon. I could seek earthly distractions in the arms and between the legs of another. Any offers? Or I could be a good boy and work.

There she goes....

In and out she darts. Distracting. In my head. In my mind's eye. Pleasing on the eye too.

There she goes, there she goes again...

I almost did it too. Put it up. Left it there. An hour or two. Then thought better and withdrew. There may be an echo. I don't know.

There she goes, there she goes again, racing through my brain...

A drink. Red wine. With dinner, yes. Bourbon, ice before.

But stop deluding yourself. You are a fantasist. Why would she say yes. What's in it for her? Don't kid yourself.

Still 17. Still scared of no. Still scared of yes. Still scared. Sort of. I go weak in the presence of beauty. A romantic with a rational heart.

Half of what I say is meaning less, but I say it just to reach you...

Yes. No. Yes. Go on. Why not? Could be fun. A laugh. A moment. No more is needed. Just a moment in infinity.

Dear Prudence

What's the worse? She says no. And you move on.

Here goes. Cover me. I'm going in.

Dear Prudence. Won't you come out to play?

I just wrote a brilliant heartfelt piece and the bloody thing rejected it!!!

Bugger

Let's play

Ok

May I

Be my guest

Warm hand, rising, falling, gently, soothing

Warmer mouth

Lost in sensation

Later.

All fours, soft, round, firm to hold. Spread wide to taste deep.

Fingers fit. So does her toy.

A jewel encrusted riding crop appears, stockings to bind and blind. Limbs divided, spread apart at opposite poles. A 6 and a 9; not prime but primal. The moment approaching.

Pulled in deep. Pushing hard. Close to violence. Close. Closer. The escape that tears through every fibre with joy and pain.

Later, an idle hand brings a response, that demands a reply. She feasts and gorges and once more engorged and then enjoyed.

Warmed and pleasured and then once more out to the cold night of day.

Mechanically perfect, flawlessly sweet, but emotionally dry. Something closer is wanted, the connection is wanting. Wanting. Mostly satisfied, but never sated, always searching for that perfect connection. It happens. It has happened. It will happen again. Once more the chase.

I have been challenged and I shall rise to it...sticky toffee pudding...

You need:

175g stoneless dates, chopped; 1 tsp bicarbonate of soda; 65g of unsalted butter; 175g golden caster sugar; 2 eggs, beaten; 175g self-raising flour, 1/2 tsp of vanilla essence.

For the sauce: 125g unsalted butter, 200g light brown muscovado sugar, 6 tbs double cream and 1/2 tsp of vanilla essence.

Grease and line a 7" square cake tin

Put the chopped dates in a saucepan with 1/2 pint of water, bring to the boil, stirring occasionally. Turn the heat down and simmer for 2 minutes, add the bicarbonate and leave to cool for 10 minutes.

Cream the buter and sugar until light and fluffy, gradually beat in the eggs. Fold in the flour, followed by the dates/bicarbonate mixture. Pour into the cake tin and cook at 180C for 50-55 minutes.

For the sauce, put all the ingredients into a pan and stir over a low heat until the sugar is dissolved. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer for 2-3 minutes until toffee coloured.

Switch off the oven, pour a little of the sauce over the cake and return it to the oven for 5 minutes.

Then serve hot with the sauce and cream/ice cream, whatever your poison. Enjoy with a best friend.

Of course I have many more other puddings up my sleeve...having such a sweet tooth I am better at puddings...my current favourite is raspberry tiramisu...but you'll have to come round to get that one!

Cadbury's Double Decker...bloody marvellous. Just had one with my cup of post-lunch coffee and I felt the need to compliment those nice people at Cadbury's. I've been eating DD's since my misspent (and somewhat overweight youth) and they never fail to hit the spot. The humble DD is up there in my Top 3 fill-a-hole-chocolate-based-snack (i.e. the sort of thing you eat when you know you really should have a banana) along with the Star Bar and Boost.

By the way, who remembers the Texan Bar and why did they take it away (much nicer than the recently returned Wispa)?