Zenand the Art of Picnics

OK Gang you didn't vote for it but you're getting it anyway. Here is the sequel to the sheep story.


The week following the “sheep” incident, the weather was still fabulous, and as Mandy was now sufficiently calm she agreed to another trek “up river” in the canoes. So I stowed, in waterproof containers, in the back of my canoe, victuals and wine and a picnic blanket and other such finery. This time we, or rather I, decided that we should paddle up stream away from civilisation, saying “We don’t want anything to remind us of last week do we?” Not mentioning once that there were several excellent shagging spots up river and virtually none down stream toward the city.
So loaded up we started paddling. The sun shone like the previous week in a cloudless sky and all was well with the world. This was no training exercise or endurance record attempt so the paddling was very lazy, with our attention on conversation and laughter, than actually getting anywhere. But we did progress up river a ways despite the fact families of walkers regularly over took us as they marched determinedly along the bank.
“Nice day.” They’d call over to us, stating the bleeding obvious.
“Yes lovely.” We’d reply. “that’s the fourth ‘nice day’” we laughed.
Finally, but hardly by accident, we chanced up an secluded island with long grass and a vista that went for miles all round, no chance of being caught unawares here.
“This looks like a good spot for a picnic. “ I said innocently.
Mandy just said “OK.”
So we paddled toward the bank and got out. Pulling the canoes out of the water I unloaded the picnic from the back of my canoe and we went in search of the perfect spot. We found it quite quickly, a patch of grass with yellow gorse bushes dotted here and there around, blue vetch and clover, bright red Herb Robert.
I spread the blanket and laid out the food. Ham, salad, cheese and finally a very respectable white Chardonnay complete with plastic cups. I thought if I don’t score now I never will. I’ll hand in my membership card and become a monk, take the vow and never return. I’ll spend the rest of my days growing sweat peas and doing genetic research and never again even attempt to enjoy the softness and delight that is a girl, I will never again endeavour to accomplish the congress of the tiger.
I poured the wine and we ate our picnic, then I poured more wine and laying on our sides we sipped and talked. I looked into her eyes, they were smiling, I edged closer. I reached over and brushed some of her long brown hair away from her face. She smiled some more and turned her cheek toward my hand almost inperceptively. Leaning forward I ventured a kiss, the softest, slightest, butterfly kiss on her lips.
With the speed that would surprise a striking cobra she was on me, her sweet innocence gone. Locked in furious snogging she was tearing at my clothes.
Jesus Mary and Joseph, I’d given her two cups of wine. Result. I reciprocated and started undoing various buttons zips and straps. Within a minute we were both as nature intended our clothes thrown all over bushes and around us.
Thank you God! My period of celibacy was over. I wasn’t going to have to start wearing a brown habit with rusty chains underneath as penance for my wrong doings. I was going to throw away that packet of sweet pea seeds. The shaggers life for me. Whoooppeeeee!
So we lay there post coital, enjoying that feeling of fulfilment. Basking in the sunlight and the warm gentle breeze. Eyes shut we lay there listening to the insects buzzing around. A bee hummed nearby. Bliss. This is what we fought two world wars for. The bee got closer. I don’t know how they have the energy to be so industrious in this heat. Then the bee got louder and through the fog of ecstasy I realised that perhaps it wasn’t a bee at all. It was too loud. Mandy opened her eyes and looked up.
“WHAT?” she sat bolt upright knocking me over and grabbed the picnic blanket. I looked up as the picnic stuff flew everywhere and the last of the wine toppled over. Directly overhead was a helicopter. Faces looking out the window at us and waving. Even from this distance we could make out the thumbs up sign. So I guess they could equally see our V signals. The helicopter flew a final circuit and then off now the show was over.
Mandy sat there with the picnic blanket wrapped round her naked body. “I’d like to go home now.” She said.
Damn! Damn! Damn! I’d still got two left in my packet of three.

iPod now playing - Three steps to heaven by Eddie Cochran