Inspiration

Last night I saw Nigella Lawson’s Express food programme featuring laughably expensive dishes like steak with crushed butter beans, served in a ton of garlic olive oil. Nigella simpered at the camera in a way that was at first funny but later became as cloying as the chocolate mousse she made. She gives soft porn (or prawn for the starter) a whole new meaning.

Nigella used to be someone I admired. She handled her husband’s death with courage and fortitude and was a brilliant writer and speaker. Now she seems to have turned into a parody of herself. If I had children I certainly wouldn’t want them eating her recipes (not a vegetable in sight, and such rich food), so I wonder what her kids eat.

So I started thinking about who inspires me. This question was posed on the Novel Racers blog the other day, (as a neat link)…

Well, I would say the late and great Jayne Tomlinson for her courage, determination and perseverance (all qualities that are vital in a writer).

My husband for his bravery in dealing with prostate cancer. He’s just been told he has to go back on treatment to bring his PSA count down, and the drugs make him feel lousy. But he hasn’t complained. (Mind you, he was only told yesterday.)

(PSA is a blood test that measures the level of cancer in the blood, by the way.)

My friend Av for having such intelligence and compassion in dealing with problem stepchildren, elderly mothers and mothers-in-law, and still retaining a sense of humour.

Someone I met recently who has survived alcoholism, drug addiction, cancer and several broken marriages. She is resolutely cheerful, resonates with lively intelligence and has a wonderful sense of humour. I am proud to be her friend.

My Mollie Dog for being so persistently optimistic, loving and intelligent. I love her to bits.

Bussie for his disdainful arrogance and his recent decision Not to Wash. He has turned from a spotless white and black cat to a grey cat. Is he rebelling? Having a mid life crisis? God knows.

Who inspires you?

Awards and Erotic Answers

First of all, I am giddy with pleasure as Akelamalu has awarded me the Inspirational Bloggers Award for “always having something interesting to say’. Thank you so much, Ak. That’s setting a real precedent!

I now have to nominate 5 others who are:-
And Who Cares
Around my kitchen table
Debio
Eurodog
Nienke Ninton

But I’m sure none of you are interested in that, and want to get on with The Answers from yesterday’s revelation into Himself’s early erotic experiences.

When I asked him he said, ‘if people want to know what happened, tell them they have to each send £25.’
I sighed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I said. ‘They’re not stupid. What happened?’

He gave in quickly and gracefully (through years of practise) and said that

1. No, he didn’t tell John about The Grope. Well, he’s a bloke, of course he wouldn’t have.
2. No, the mother didn’t make any reference to their grope, either. (No surprise there)
3. As for whether he stayed there again, he can’t remember. Can’t remember? I believe him when he says this, but this is the difference between men and women. Or is it just me and him?

If it was me, I’d have that experience burned onto my psyche. I’d remember sitting at breakfast the next morning, my collar sticking to my neck as I wondered if the maid had seen. I’d sit opposite John with a frenzy of mixed hormones roaring through my head. What would he think if he knew what his mother had done? Had I responded? Had I responded enough? What was she – an Old Woman (approx 38) DOING? Did she really fancy me? Wow!!!!

And I’d also remember what John said when he next invited me to stay.

‘Oh, thanks, but I’m a bit busy – we’re going to Cornwall for the holidays.’
NO WAY am I going anywhere near that woman again.

Or

‘Oh, thanks. Yeah, great.’
Will it happen again? What would I do if it did? Or did I dream it?

Which do you think he said?