Thursday, September 01, 2005

Big girls

Tonight I'm chilling in my flat while we have the the Mother of all Thunderstorms going on outside. The rain is so hard the drains can't cope. The thunder is so loud I can't hear the TV so I content myself by leaning out my window to watch the show mother nature is providing.
I miss Dels first call. I couldn't even hear my phone ring. I miss his second call. Same reason. While I'm checking the missed calls he phones again.
"Wanna go to the pub? I'll be at your back door in five."
"I'm skint."
"You point being?"
"I have no money." I have really, but the bank is shut. It's hard cash I'm short of right now. Walking about money. Flash money. I've none of it. The wallet is empty until tomorrow. It's bad planning to be honest.
"DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE PUB?"
"Yes. But...."
"I'll pick you up."
Luckily the lord sees fit to ease off the rain while I get in the car and we go to the pub. Then it comes down again with a vengeance. We sit in the conservatory of the pub and get soaked anyway. The roof is leaking.
"Hey Del. What am I going to write about tonight?"
"I want you to ask the world who is Dels perfect girl? I want suggestions from round the world."
"I should specify your requirements if they don't already know."
"Yes but bare in mind Diane is my perfect girl."
"So this is a hypothetical request?"
"Of course."
"So I'm going to ask my readers to suggest the larger lady, who may be of interest to you?"
"Yes."

OK guys (and gals) We've already got the obvious one Dawn French. Who is cute beyond belief despite being the one who ate the pies. Now Del needs you to be more creative. Who do you know of a larger size who's incredibly attractive? Del doesn't do thin.

His theory on girls is akin to washing powder. Why buy a small pack of washing powder when you can get the extra large size for the same money. Big girls are more value for money. I don't personally subscribe to this theory. My perfect girl is petite and French, with short brown hair, and preferably called Helene, but then that's me. I have my own problems.

It's Helenes sons birthday today. That's Pierre. He is 15 today. I guess I wouldn't recognise him now. He was 12 the last time I saw him. He was a noisy boy. He was a boys boy. In a house with two sisters one of whom was heavily into fashion and make up (Marione) the other into Barbie (Maude).


I had a text from Roman the other day asking why I didn't come to France anymore. That's a hard question to answer. Roman is the son of Martine the artist who is a good friend of mine (and Helenes). I had to reply that I would love to visit but it was too painful to visit without Helene. I have never been to France since we split up. It seems Helene has now got the job that I was offered three years ago. Manager of an Art Gallery. It's funny how even though you know it's all over, it's still painful. I have moved on. But there's still that regret. That things didn't work out like we planned.
Perhaps in another life time things would have been different. If her Father hadn't taken a shotgun to me...........


Rock on dudes

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