Wednesday, 15 November 2017


Anybody who read my post Not Quite a Lady B Post might be interested to know that I finally managed to have about 60 seconds of conversation with the Lady B’s sister today. You wouldn’t think it possible to live half a mile from somebody in a relatively close-knit community for 11½ years and never get to talk to them, would you? I can attest to the fact that it is.

I even got to ask her the big question: ‘How do you manage to be so mysterious?’ to which she answered ‘I am mysterious.’ Well now, that’s like giving somebody a pickaxe in the Klondike and pointing out the little slivers of shiny yellow metal lying close to the big hole in the rock face. Could you leave it at that and walk away? I did. So did she, but then she had the advantage of being the source of the shiny yellow metal.

Ah well, at least the encounter managed to lift my depression - as well as the inconvenient physical phenomena which accompany it - for at least an hour. That takes some doing, so many thanks and congratulations to the Lady B’s sister. And considering the way I’ve abused my body through the course of my life, I doubt I’ll still be around in another 11½ years so I expect today’s encounter will prove to be altogether unique for this life.

(I seem to recall that I once made a post about my fascination with the concept of sisterhood. I suppose it’s all to do with the combination of familial bond and that peculiarly feminine form of power which we men find both compelling and mysterious. Or maybe it’s the more prosaic perception that two pounds buys twice as many cupcakes as one.)

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