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I kissed an (old) girl and I liked it

  Mon 8th May 2017

Middle daughter has started working in our local brewery's tap. "Come and say hello and have a pint. We're very quiet."

On the way I saw three thirtysomethings doing the map reading head-swivel of the lost. I got a couple of yards past them then turned round to help them. "Where are you looking for?" One of the men glares back at me. "Nowhere," with a defensive, rising intonation. "Well fuck off then."


I saw my little girl (she's eighteen) looking so vulnerable and eager to please behind the bar. To my relief, the bar manager seemed understated and patient with her.

On the astroturf outside, a christening party was settling into the drink. Catholics definitely have the best parties. Young mums in lurid high heels and those Elastened tubular dresses which only girls of Wendy standard can get away with. (There were no girls there of Wendy standard. As if).

I sat down at one of the tables, and it occurred to me that there was a bit of a ligging opportunity. I prepared a story about working for the caterers, and strolled into the marquee and assembled a modest selection of pasta salad, quiche, sandwiches and cake.

My daughter came out and looked at me scoffing. "Dad!"

"Are you admiring my audacity or are you ashamed of your father again? And would you like a couple of these sarnies?"

I made what I hoped was an observed point of chatting for a while with a woman who was widely occupying the next table; I wanted people to think I knew someone there. She was sitting in the refined Lancashire open-legged style, looking like a half-deflated bouncy castle. Thus prepared, I went to collect my seconds.


I got a bit tipsy in the Penny Bank on Saturday afternoon and started snogging a seventy-year-old. The landlady came over and told us to pack it in.

I can't quite remember how it started. I was chatting to these Geordie lads, then this woman I know by sight, a somewhat frayed local, came and sat next to me. Then the next thing I know we were at it. "Fucking hell, you're good at that, "I said. "What a lovely kisser you are. Do it again." And we did. It was superb for several minutes, until the landlady stepped in to separate the contestants.

I went back to the pub yesterday as soon as it was opened to confess. "Hiya Kelly, can I have a quick word? I'm sorry about yesterday. I got a bit carried away with Sarah." "Yes, well, it's just that a couple of people around you didn't appreciate it. But it's OK, don't worry about it," and gave me a little indulgent, absolving, smile.

Later I bumped into the Geordie lads. "Here's Jack Russell," one of them said. "What do you mean 'Jack Russell'?" "You yesterday, and that woman. You had your leg crooked over her." "Oh fuck, I don't remember that bit. Oh well, never mind. I got pissed and started necking an old bird. I enjoyed it to be honest!"

10 comments

Comment from: kono [Visitor]

What’s to be said of that post? a blinder sir, good stuff.

Mon 8th May 2017 @ 16:11
Comment from: [Member]

You’re very kind kono. All I do is write about what happens to me. Or what I make happen to me, I suppose. How can anyone ever determine their position between passivity and agency? Writing all this is simple. I don’t have to imagine anything. It’s just description.

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 00:53
Comment from: kono [Visitor]

You are correct the writing is the simple part, the real art lies in the living, and that is an art that is lost on many but not on you my friend.

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 02:57
Comment from: kono [Visitor]

And since i’m a bit stoned… i was at the clubhouse the other night talking about this very thing, (mainly to a beautiful, coked out girl half my age) how people need to write things down not for any grand reasons but just to tell stories, to share experiences or moods or thoughts, to remember friends and family and strangers, we can laugh at the blogosphere but it is an easy tool to document our stories, of course co-opted into commerce by most who are using it and pushing a brand but those are the true sickos, i dig the fact that i can find a cricket loving, boozehound, speed freak who loves techno, who i’ve never met but enjoy reading about, maybe it’s just i like fucking weirdos ;) but what a fascinating medium, imagine some poor bastard 40 years from now finding this blog or the lounge for that matter, i’d dare say they’d be entertained, they’d have the musings of these past lives, again stories passed along, and i’m quite sure it wouldn’t be what they read in school, it would give a different perspective on everything they’ve been taught, alright see what happens when a shut-in forgets to smoke enough gear to put him on the couch, rambling…

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 03:14
Comment from: [Member]

What are we going to do with all of this when we go? Which I always think, is any day. I don’t know how a hundred units a week pisshead and moderate speed addict of about 35 years, gets away with it. Because I enjoy life, that’s how. People are constantly kind to me. I am often in wonderment at the kindness people show me. I don’t have rancour or bitterness to anyone. It’s a waste of energy.

I like recording my life. I think it’s a pretentious writerly vanity to think that our lives are important to others, but I understand it when writers say that they are compelled to write. And reading as well, because you learn how to write from reading, and I enjoy it intrinsically. I am making slow but sensuous progress with James Joyce at the moment and laughing sometimes, with wonder at how the fuck he does it.

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 05:11
Comment from: [Member]

P.S. For some reason I have no idea about, coke seems to be coming down in price round here. It’s been 90 or a ton a gram for a long time. But I got a gram for a friend the other day – I can’t afford it myself – for 70 quid.

I was a bit doubtful at that price so I did slice off a wee line for myself, and it was really nice! It’s too dangerously addictive that stuff, and I’m glad I can’t afford it. I wonder what you pay over there though.

(These ramblings come to you courtesy of speeded-up-5am-comments-r-us.com.)

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 05:21

I was near the British Museum, a bit lost, and I asked two girls if they could give me directions. One snapped at me, “NO!” and walked on. What’s wrong with people?

“ligging” and “sarnies.” Two trips to Google in one post. That’s hitting a double.

70?! Did she have her teeth?

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 12:12
Comment from: looby [Visitor]

I’m sorry you had a bad experience with the girls in London, but London is not England. That’s why I was surprised at the hostility of the people I encountered. We’re not that bad up here!

This teeth thing. A few people have mentioned it. It’s an ageist comment, a code for saying that she must be unattractive because of her age, and that anyone who – at least temporarily – finds her attractive is a loser. As if we’re only allowed to fancy people within a narrow margin which overlaps our own age.

Well I don’t give a shit. My former next door neighbour is 73, and I would.

Tue 9th May 2017 @ 21:08

Aww, don’t get sore. You’re reading too much into it. It’s not a manifesto on age or social status. It’s the same wry comment that *anyone* would make. If you tee it up by telling us you’re snogging a 70-year old, don’t be surprised if we swing for the fence in the comment section.

Fri 12th May 2017 @ 18:54
Comment from: [Member]

Your last sentence there Exile illustrates the mutual incomprehensibility of British and American English :)

Tue 16th May 2017 @ 15:56


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looby, n.; pl. loobies. A lout; an awkward, stupid, clownish person


M / 53 / Lancaster ("the Brighton of the North").

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