Boring family

You should record her snoring! Do you keep your mobile phone by your bed? I’ll bet she’d laugh and laugh! Or you can wield it as a cruel weapon in the event you break up. Kristy’s sister sounds like a LOT of New Yorkers I know. Astonished to find there’s life outside their vacuum.

She’s aware of it, and I don’t want to rub it in by recording her, even though I know she doesn’t realise how loud and what an ugly sound it is. Snorers have snoring as a concept, not an experience. It’s a shame really because it’s going to mean me getting out of bed once the sex is over to go to another room, and ideally one would like sex and the togetherness of sleep to flow seamlessly into each other.

I’d be very careful if I was you. She’s obviously an undercover operative from the Lancashire Drug Squad, tracking NBC’s latest production run.
Hedonism in Garstang? Don’t they still put you on the ducking stool for that?

Mmm. Never thought of that. That “going to the loo” line she pulled now sounds a bit more sinister.

Hedonism in Garstang involves sliding into a freshly-ironed pair of slacks in order better to enjoy the breathtaking pleasure of signalling bridge hands to one’s partner by touching each others’ feet under the table, which has in the past resulted in some spectacular spillages of port.

At other times, Garstang life drifts soporifically along. The local newspaper (as I photographed on this blog a while ago) recently had a front page story about a farmer’s daughter getting into midwifery school.

The District Chamber of Trade and Commerce laments: “The stocks were destroyed by fire in 1939 whilst in the loft of the Old Town Hall. What a pity we now do not possess them as they would be perfect for dealing with modern day hoodlums!”

My sympathies to Kirsty and the girls. There is a surfeit of solipsists in this part of the world. I’d go as far as to suggest it is the most narcissistic town in the UK.

My mum’s family are from L–es for generations and most of them still live there, and when K got a job down there and we found a great flat in the North Laines, I was really looking forward to all the music and dancing.

What a disappointment though. The pubs are great, but everyone’s just locked into their own little groups, ostentatious little loved-up dyads, or work outings. I don’t like Brighton. It’s a conservative place where people go to be with others like themselves.

my ex-husband was a snorer - it was always worse if he’d had some beer before bed. unfortunately, he was also VERY quick to fall asleep. he’d be sawing logs within seconds of getting into bed, and i’d lie there awake and getting frustrated… never did come up with a solution, as me kicking him in the shins until he’d wake enough to shut the fuck up wasn’t really helpful, although it worked in a pinch…

There’s no solution really, especially as we both like our wine before we go to bed. She tells me to poke her to wake her up but that’s no good because within two minutes she’s back with the foghorn turned up loud enough to alert all shipping between here and the Isle of Man.

There is a solution - two. But unpleasant for you or her. For you: earplugs - proper wax ones. For her: get tested for sleep apnea. If it is, it could change her life, but she’d have to wear a mask to sleep for the rest of her days.
Totally agree with you about Brighton. And I do find that leftwing types tend to use the phrase ‘like-minded’ as a discreet social code to indicate their desire to exist inside these closed circles.

I’m not sleeping with a woman with a mask on. I would never ask her to do that. And it’d kill the sex. I didn’t know about wax earplugs–thanks, I might give them a go.

All classes police themselves and use talk as a way of establishing the limits of their social boundaries. It’s up to reckless nutters like you and me V to ignore all that crap :)