Thursday, 29 April 2010
This is my favourite time of night. It's so quiet and so peaceful, there's a "moods" cd playing softly in the background and candles burning. Girl cat and boy cat are competing for space beside me on the sofa and purring contentedly. This is when I truly get to relax and exhale deeply.
I'm in a very contemplative mood tonight, in a positive way though. I have a very strict policy when it comes to the use of social networking sites, Twitter for hussying and Facebook for my personal life and never the twain shall meet. Far less confusing that way, and less opportunities for vino fuelled feck ups, like signing a message on Facebook "LL".
Allow me to do one of those very annoying "flashback" things they do on TV all the time. At the tender age of 15, a new boy came into our class at school. He was tall, muscular and incredibly handsome. The best bit was, he didn't have a clue. He was the most unassuming person you could meet. For my part, as a spotty, hormone plagued teenager fuelled by idealistic notions, I fell head over heels with him. Totally. I remember he always used to smell so good, that manly musky smell that just oozed under - appreciated testoserone. I wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt. Ahhh, puppy love.
The girls in our group clucked around him like there was no other man on earth, and as for me, well, I stuck with the geeks, it was a safe corner to be in. About perhaps six months later, word was flying around the school about a very secretive party that was scheduled to take place, someone's parents had obviously had a temporary lapse in sanity and had announced a weekend away, leaving their teenager in charge. To my eternal delight I got an invite, and set about organising my alibi for my parents combined with sourcing illicit alcohol. ( You know, years later my Dad told me he knew feckin' well what I was up to, but decided I wouldn't do anything TOO daft, and besides, he could have done without confrontation # 932. )
Anyway, the night came and the party got started with gusto. We all got fairly bleary eyed, Sinead was violently sick in the back garden ( a mark of honour in those days ) and between one thing and another, at some late point in proceedings I ended up alone in the kitchen, trying to find some ice for my drink whilst tickling the resident pooch on his tummy with my stockinged toes. Behind me I heard a voice - "There you are."
I swung around and there was the subject of 2,397 fantasies of mine, in all his glory. We chatted about this and that,( trying to appear nonchalant whilst semi-bladdered on Tia Maria as nicked from your parent's drinks cabinet is not a good look) and then it happened. He very gently cupped my cheeks with his hands and kissed me. The whole world stood still and all that mattered was that moment. He lifted me onto the kitchen counter to sit so that I could draw him closer into that kiss, which I most certainly did, until a worried looking Goth came running into the kitchen to inform us that one of the neighbours had called the police to break up the party. What happened after that is a bit of a blur really, security lights came on in various back gardens as we scrambled for freedom, and as a group we ended up in various retreats.
I spied that wonderful creature on another couple of occasions in school, and we did the whole "furtive smile" thing, until one day it was announced that on foot of his Father's job, the family were moving on, and I never saw him again. That was 20 years ago now, gosh just typing that out makes me feel old.
Anyway, why did I bore you to death with that ? Because when I came home from Newcastle today, I checked my personal emails before anything else. There was a new "friends" invite from Facebook so I logged in and there it was, his smiling face on his profile page and a message which simply said - "There you are".
Oh, he's been married since, had two children and is now with a new partner, but when I read that, all those wonderful memories came back and I have had an evening of grinning from ear to ear.
Tuesday, 27 April 2010
I'm visiting York ! Yes indeedy I have finalised details and will be there on the 27th and 28th of May. I'm really looking forward to pastures new, not least because I am joining forces with Ellie Lloyd. There's a link to her site here -
She's a curvy lady like myself but with one ( well, two ) notable differences. She has a most impressive erm .. pair, in fact they're 36KK - ferking hell !! We were chatting last night and were happy to notice a pool near where we'll be based because we both enjoy some relaxation too. Suffice to say I don't think Ellie will need any floatation devices. Jealous, moi ? Nope, I just can't wait to get acquainted. *evil cackle* This profession is perfect for a natural born pervert like me.
Moving on before I become more flushed and need some "private time", this article appeared in The Scottish Herald on April the 22nd, written by Anne Johnstone.
The link is here :
*rubs hands together*
Apparently, my job may involve "being photographed or being gagged and bound". Really ? Nice to see that she's done thorough research into the subject. Anyone who's ever met me will find the notion of gagging hilarious.
Unfortunately, Ms. Johnstone has made a fatal error in her argument, she is calling for the banning of the sex industry on the basis of one sector of that industry. She is focusing on the trafficked women and/or drug addled street workers. She says -
"Five Daughters shows how these once pretty, lovable girls drifted into drug addiction and selling themselves for sex.
Demand dictates supply. Most punters may not be murderers or rapists but if men did not treat sex with prostitutes as a harmless recreational activity, those five daughters might be alive today."
Sorry, but I disagree. Five daughters shows how women who were working on the street were left wide open, like sitting ducks to be killed off one by one by a psychopath. Had those women been allowed to work in licensed brothels with adequate care and protection and closer links to drug treatment, THOSE MURDERS WOULD NOT HAVE HAPPENED.
For me, the saddest part of that was the story of Paula, who was so full of hope because she had made a commitment to enter into a drug treatment program but missed her appointment because she had been murdered. The police begged the girls concerned not to work until the murderer had been caught and their reply was " I have to work, I need the money".
The solution then, SURELY, should have been to get them off the street and indoors into an environment where they could watch and protect each other. To say " ban it and the problem goes away" is almost amusing in it's simplistic view.
The article goes on to say -
"Those who complain criminalisation will “drive prostitution underground” ignore the fact that it’s there already, mired in the drugs trade and organised crime. If punters can find prostitutes, so can police officers and social workers."
Ms. Johnstone has just scored a spectacular own goal. Yes, there is an element of underground activity attached to "crimelords" or whatever the nom du jour is. So how does one obtain information about the whereabouts of these "underground" women ? It's very simple, just stroll into your local friendly newsagent and purchase a copy of a redtop newspaper which contains all the contact numbers for "working flats" in a given area.
Hang on, wasn't Ms Johnstone roundly supporting Trish Godman who wanted to ban all advertising ? Wouldn't that make it more difficult to reach these women ?
Finally she concludes with this -
"Since devolution, Scots have shown they can be bold politically. Why don’t we become the first part of the UK to outlaw the selling of sex and admit that prostitution entrenches gender inequality and objectifies women?"
Scots have certainly shown that we can be bold politically. Why don't we become the first part of the UK to legalise the selling of sex and admit that prostitution exists on many different levels and is never going to disappear on foot of some badly thought out, umbrella style pieces of legislation ?
This State is hypocritical in it's aims, for women like me who are stored on databases as "known prostitutes", meaning any job we apply for in certain sectors will be declined on the basis of a "disclosure Scotland" check. They would like us to cease from selling sex but make it impossible to do so. More importantly, this State has blood on it's hands for the women they let work the streets, night after night, whilst being murdered, because it is illegal for them to work together and protect each other.
Friday, 23 April 2010
"Of Men and Mice " - Contrary to Steinbeck's tale of woe, I've had a blast in the last day or two. Yesterday I had a message on Twitter from a friend. Well, he was a client, became a friend, and now he's a client, friend and fellow activist too, it's all very confusing but in the most delicious way. I checked out of my hotel room in Dundee early and scampered over the Tay bridge to meet him in Edinburgh. He took me out for a delicious meal of my fave steak, rounded off with an Irish coffee. After that we went for a stroll around the Royal Mile and found a wonderfully erm .. "different" pub. There was a guy playing a guitar on stage who looked like he might burst into tears at any minute. He was bellowing out ballads with some completely unnecessary guitar solos thrown in and a large dose of angst for good measure. ( Never mind, there were some appreciative folk who looked like The Living Dead who seemed to totally feel his pain, man. )
Ahem. We headed back to the apartment for some fun of our own and later took some photos for the hell of it. Some of them were even in focus.( Actually there's one belter of my behind which I might put on my site. )
This morning we rolled out of bed and went for a full fry up and ignoring the neds who were loudly discussing those who "abuse the sick" behind us, our conversation came around to mice. ( We really do have the most bizarre conversations ). I don't mind spiders, snakes, heights etc. but if I see a mouse or worse, a rat, I'm up on the nearest available light fitting. Years ago I can remember a summer's day when we all woke up to the sound of a high pitched screech coming from the kitchen. The little mouse that had been literally "terrorising" my Mother had got himself caught in a trap. Unfortunately, he had seen it coming at the last minute and pulled back, so it was only his paw that was trapped. There were rivers of tears as we pondered what to do, my next door neighbour thought we should drop a yellow pages on him and end his misery, but in the absence of my Dad or any amount of murderous tendencies we just couldn't go through with it. In the end he just keeled over and died, probably from shock, but he was afforded a funeral in the flower bed in the back garden with full military honours. ( Well, wrapped in kitchen roll anyway ).
Speaking of cute furry creatures, the other day I was shuffling around at home and on the TV in the background I happened to notice two koalas having ( what we call in my house ) a "special cuddle". It was an amazing sight, the prospective lovers call out to each other and once he's been given the green light, the male sidles over and does his thing. After a couple of ( it must be said ) fairly impressive thrusts, when he has erm, "finished", the male rewards his female partner by sinking his teeth as hard as he can into her fur. That's feckin' gratitude for you, eh ?
Finally, once the female has freed herself from his clutches, the male climbs up to the top of the highest tree and roars to announce to all local males that he has had his wicked, furry way.
Hmmmm, perhaps we are not so far removed from the humble koala after all. ;)
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Good evening and greetings from Dundee where I am chilling out in my hotel room. I am going through a myriad of emotions this evening, on one hand I am absolutely jubilant because the proposed amendments tabled by Trish Godman have been thrown out. I know it's only a matter of time until a further amendment is tabled, but for now, I am so proud of everyone who took the time to object to the proposed changes, the activists I am proud to work with , the ladies from SAAFE, the Punternet posters, all of them deserve a huge pat on the back.
This is what appeared in The Daily Record -
An attempt to criminalise people who buy sex from prostitutes was today rejected by a Holyrood committee.
Labour MSP Trish Godman had tried to win support for the proposed offence, which she argued would send a strong message and reform an "unequal" law which focuses on women.
But the Justice Committee voted against the measure, which was backed only by Labour politicians, saying the issues had not been thoroughly investigated.
In her plea to the committee, Ms Godman said: "As I speak, men are buying sex from prostitutes, men are raping women who are trafficked, they have no fear, they will never get caught because it is not an offence.
"We need to send a strong message that buying sex is not harmless or acceptable, it should be regarded in Scotland as an abuse and an exploitation which will not tolerated.
"I would argue that we owe it to all women who are victimised by prostitution to do what we can now."
Ms Godman rejected concerns that her amendment would push prostitution "indoors", saying that if men can find it, police and welfare services can as well.
Tory, SNP and Liberal Democrat committee members said they recognised the importance of the amendment but said it should not be added late to the wider overhaul of the Criminal Justice and Licensing Bill, currently at its second stage of parliamentary scrutiny.
Community Safety Minister Fergus Ewing, who was also at today's committee session, said experts had warned the proposed law could make the problem worse.
He added: "The Government is concerned about making substantial changes to the law in this difficult, complex and sensitive area, without proper consideration, consultation, with all the issues involved.
"Rushing through a major change to the law of prostitution through stage-two amendments, without any proper consultation and with very limited time for consideration, is a bad idea."
Mr Ewing said 93 submissions had been made to Parliament about the prostitution laws, compared with an earlier 90 for the entire Bill.
Independent MSP Margo MacDonald - who lodged her own amendments but opposed Ms Godman - told the committee that not all women are forced into prostitution and called for a separate investigation into any law changes.
She said: "If the intention of this committee and this Parliament is to outlaw paid-for sex between consenting adults, then you'll have to tackle that, and it will need much more information than we've got this morning."
Ms Godman's amendment was defeated by five votes to three.
So huge congratulations all 'round.
I was just beginning to relax when I discovered that Grampian and Tayside Police have taken it upon themselves to trace the movements of WG’s visiting their areas and pay them a visit. There have been several incidents brought to light over the last few days which include plain clothes police officers arriving at hotels and apartments with details of the ladies working names, sometimes photographic evidence – face pics taken from private galleries on websites.
One lady described how she opened the door presuming it was house-keeping, only to be confronted by officers of the law addressing her by her working name. The room was checked for visitors, she was asked to put her money away in front of one of them (presumably so they couldn't’t be accused of theft), asked her name, address, place of birth, husband’s name and maiden name. After a PNC radio check she was told they were aware of visitors she’d had and her comings and goings of that day. They mentioned management at the hotel had informed them.
However, what followed afterwards is most intriguing and worrying:-
“They then insisted they take a photograph of me. I was informed it was just for their file in case anything should happen to me on future visits. They mentioned they wanted to know who everyone was. This consisted of one of the officers using a video camera and him asking me to state my real name, date of birth and my working name to the camera. They then assisted me as I packed my stuff (hotel management had asked them to ask me to leave) and were very chatty and friendly asking me what I was going to do next. They politely assisted me from the building giving me a card and asking me to call if I was visiting the area again as he wanted to be made aware”
This is harassment, pure and simple. When the Police arrive at the hotel / apartment where a lady is quite legally working, what they are doing is flashing their ID and asking the managers if they would like the "prossie" removed. Of course the answer is "Yes", so a woman who has committed no crime is thrown out of a hotel in full view of other guests. NOT ACCEPTABLE. For the next couple of days I will be in deep conversation with MSP's, lawyers and activists. This underhand and quite frankly disgusting behaviour needs to stop, and now.
Hah, if you thought I would stop ranting because the proposed amendments were thrown out, you were sadly mistaken, I have found a new bug bear.
Wednesday, 14 April 2010
Afternoon all, I'm boinging around the house today for several reasons, and in stark contrast to my last blog.
Firstly, my Slave Bitch has been a very good boy indeed and sent me some pressies, which arrived today. I have a new strap on, some wet and slippy lube and a new riding crop too, so I'm chuffed to bits. He has booked an extended weekend of hell at the end of April and if he thinks for one second that this means I'll go easier on him, he is sadly mistaken, har har.
Secondly, I'm finally going to get to live out one of my fantasies and next month I will be visiting Amsterdam to do so. I may tell you a bit more about that closer to the time. *winks*
The third reason I'm boinging today is tomorrow I'm off to Inverness with Amanda for two days and I can't wait to see her and have our usual nonsense and craic that we have on tour. I think one of the reasons we get on so well is that I'm completely and utterly hyper-active whilst she is so laid back she's practically horizontal, and we also have the same sense of humour, so we wind each other up to perfection. Also, tonight we're having a ladies night out in Glasgow. There are 8 or so of us ladies of negotiable virtue meeting for dinner and vino so I'm looking forward to that immensely. It will be sunglasses and lucozade on the A9 to Inverness tomorrow.
One of the ladies that's attending tonight's social is a new lady called Hannah. She came to moi via the buddy scheme and has just recently launched her site and is doing tremendously well, I'm so proud of her. It would be very easy to hate her actually because she's a tall, slender, verrrry attractive blonde lady but I can't, because she's also one of the nicest people I have had the good fortune to meet.
Here's a link to her site ;
So, next step is to get her blogging along with the rest of us, and who knows, we may offer duos in Glasgow in the future. *evil grin*
Ok, I need to go and beautify myself for tonight.
Speak to you fae Inversneckie,
Sunday, 11 April 2010
Good evening and greetings from home where I'm perched on my sofa with a cool glass of vino after an immensely brilliant day. It's hard to fathom that just two weeks ago there was a severe weather warning and trains stuck in snow. Today the sun was beaming down and everyone was smiling, ( even the Neds. )
I met a client today who was nervous as hell, because his previous pleasures have always taken place in Amsterdam, where you can literally survey before you commit. He sent me an email to say he was very impressed with my site and my blog and was willing to take a chance and book without having seen my face. ( Actually, at the time of his email arrival it was probably a good job too. )
Anyway, I'm very glad he did, and I think he is too. Because he had booked an extended lunch time appointment I suggested nibbles, so I found myself sprinting around to M & S to get some sandwiches, fruit and "real" lemonade. You know what ? I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that we sat down to have the nibbles firstly, it was a brilliant ice breaker and I'm strongly thinking about including a "lunch date" in my rates, where I provide the lunch.
Onto a more serious matter. When I became an activist, I did so with rose coloured spectacles I suppose, I thought I could have my say and there would be some who would agree and some who would disagree. What I wasn't prepared for was the level of personal insults that some people will stoop to.
The other day on the debate on "Comment is Free" on the Guardian site, I was told my chosen profession is seedy and sordid. I was also compared to excrement and told that I must have no feelings. I was able to counter all of the arguments, but I have to tell you, the one about "no feelings" got me. So, you go through all the rationalisations in your head ..
"They don't know me, they've never met me "...
"They're cyber warriors, hiding behind an internet persona " ...
..but it still stung.
Underneath this brusque and confident exterior lies a sensitive soul, as is the case with most extroverts. I need to toughen up, I know I do, far worse is ahead for us in the Scottish paid sex scene. I guess I just needed to vocalise my feelings on it. Hell, I am one of the most loving and empathetic people you could possibly meet. To suggest that just because I sell sex I am numb to all emotion is untrue, hurtful and ill-based.
Ok rant over.
Friday, 9 April 2010
I have what I proudly refer to as a "ned filter". ( For my Southern readers, it means 'chavs'. ) I've always been able to tell a lot from the way a guy speaks to me on the phone. Recently I was chortling out loud when I was reading Darla's blog about her initiation into Glasgae speak. Like Darla, I didn't hatch in Glasgow and so had to learn the "Weegie" lingo pretty quickly.
To be fair, I've come along way from a desire to thump a woman who called me "hen" in a night club. I thought she was calling me an ugly bird. Dear me.
"Gaunae gies a winch" - " I would really like to kiss you, would you like to kiss me?"
"Get tae f*ck" - fairly self explanatory really.
"I'm pure hoachin', so I am, no ?" - " I have a strong desire to get my hands on some more of *insert class A substance here* that has made me feel this crap, do you know what I mean ?"
"Uhhh ... Gads !! " - "That is disgusting".
"Pure hunners o' thay wans" - "There were lots of those afore mentioned items".
"Get that roonaboot ye"- "Comprehend that if you will."
"Scunnered the day" - "I'm feeling a bit under the weather this morning, probably due to an ingestion of copious amounts of Buckfast".
If you are intending to visit Glasgow, thanks to Darla I found this neat little site :
Here you can find pictures of neds and common factors to assist you with identification too. Hooped earrings are essential for the girls and baseball caps are the attire of choice for the boys. The way in which said caps are worn is essential, they must be tipped back to expose as much of the shaven head as possible, it would seem that this is an international symbol of recognition. This allows neds from other nations to safely approach and try and source some "eccies".
Actually, until today, I hadn't realised that there are categories of neds. This is from the survival guide ;
The Family Man Ned: "This ned is predominantly found outside of the city centre. This ned will usually be seen making his way down the road pushing a pram, with at least two other small children trailing behind, on his way to the DSS. These children will almost certainly be fighting with each other or throwing stones at buses and so the family man ned will usually be shouting at them. "Michela, stoap flingin stanes at Charlene". This ned is slightly older than the other neds as he will have at least three children and can be considered as a good example of what happens to a young common ned who does not grow out of neddism. A ned can become trapped inside ned circles if he gets lumbered with a "wean", turning into a family man ned, usually at the ages of 13 to 15."
Be still my beating heart.
Right, I'm off to frog march my little darling to a museum and instill some culture and education whether she likes it or not. She will join the ned fraternity over my dead body.
Thursday, 8 April 2010
I have spent most of today spitting feathers and with good reason. Today there appeared in The Guardian an excellent and well balanced article written by Cari Mitchell.
Here is the link :
In the article the author asked a very valuable question in relation to the role of a modern single mother - Why criminalise prostitution when 25% of single mothers are now experiencing poverty rather than 10% seven years ago ? Congratulations Harriet Harman, this is the work of your labour party, this is the legacy you have left. ( I emphasise the word "left", because if there is a God then after May, all Ms. Harperson will have to worry about is duck houses and driving offences. )
Allow me to quote from the article ;
"Are we mothers less degraded working 40 hours a week for under £5 an hour than if we make three times as much working part-time in a brothel?
Women are not ashamed of what we have to do to survive. But we are furious that those who claim to know what's best for us are ready to see us starve as long as we keep our clothes on, or put us in prison when we take them off.
Such feminism ultimately defends the market from women, rather than women from the market. Who else will benefit from the increased competition for scarce jobs, and the longer hours and starvation wages we are urged to submit to?"
I was so enthused to see an article that was devoted to sensible observation rather than hysterical radical statement backed up by statistics from cloud cuckoo land.
So why was I spitting feathers ? It was the comments afterwards that got my blood boiling, honestly it was like stepping back to the 1950's. Here are some of the comments aimed at sex workers, during the debate some of them were generalised and some of them were aimed at me personally ;
"My point is pretty starightforward (sic): women that commoditise themselves - who themselves become the article of transaction - reduce the status of women to objects, to be bought and sold according to the delectation of men."
My reply ;
"Good grief. Can't you at least accept that some sex workers have just a little more sense of self worth not to mention intelligence when it comes to the decisions that we make on a daily basis ? I am a sex worker and I absolutely reserve the right to say "No" or stop any booking I am unhappy with. I am not a commodity, I am a Mother, a degree student and a successful escort. I do not sell my body, I offer my skills for a fee. There's a big difference, don't you think ?
To refer to my chosen, ( yes, CHOSEN ) profession as shameful and sordid says more about you than it does about any number of sex workers. It is the continued nonsensical legislating against us combined with attitudes like yours which ensure the continuation of our marginalisation and stigma in society.
You have no right to judge me or my clients any more than I have a right to judge you. Your moral standards cannot be handed out as fact, they are an opinion and nothing more."
It got better. He came back with -
"You have every right to judge me. And I have every right to judge you. Actions should be judged - indeed, they have to be judged - in politics, in business, in personal conduct.
That is not to say those judgements should be accepted. But don't get on your soap box and tell me you're above judgement. You're not. None of us are.
I happen to think your 'CHOSEN' lifestyle is demeaning - of your sex, if not yourself. I agree it's only an opinion, but I've given my reasons for it. Just as the men who pay for sex diminish my gender, so you who provide for them diminish yours."
So, in conclusion I was told I was demeaning my fellow women ( and myself ) and my choice of employment was sordid. Actually very late on I've just checked the latest comments and this little diamond has appeared ;
"The normalising of sex 'work' is idiotic. Only those with a strong stomach or no feelings need apply. This article is cack."
Brilliant. Nice to know that those with a high intellectual ability are taking an interest in such a crucial issue. For now, I'm sitting on my hands and taking myself to bed, to do some relaxation breathing thing as recommended by my new "Zen" Mother.
Monday, 5 April 2010
I'm visiting Newcastle !! I'm so excited, it will be my first time to tour there and I'll be with the delectable Susan fae Glasgow. We will be in a private luxury apartment on the 26th and 27th of April, so if you want to visit, you know what to do. Drop me an email, I'll be delighted to hear from you.
I've had a wonderful couple of days for a number of reasons. On Saturday I went back to my old home town to have some time out with G and the rest of my pals from old. ( You remember, the rabbit called "The Dog". )It was another splendid version of "Shameless in Scotland" and I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was brilliant to let off some steam and just chill. Most of us made it to bed eventually apart from A, who woke up on the floor next to the rabbit hutch. ( As you do. )
The best thing about my pals in my old home town is that they know what I do for a living and are completely fine with it. In fact, when I was "outed", there were cries of exasperation - "How many times have we sat and watched Belle du Jour and all the while you kept quiet ?" I think they now understand that not everyone is as open minded, those that feel I should be burnt at a stake will never change their opinion, sad but true. In fact one of the biggest eye openers for me was observing who stuck around and who turned their backs, the old saying is very true, you soon find out who your real friends are.
From that den of iniquity I drove back to Glasgow on Sunday night to meet the perfect client. Why was he perfect ? Well, he read my site with interest and said he would like to meet for an extended session of cunnilingus. How could I refuse ? To be honest, it makes a refreshing change when someone takes the time to read my site, as opposed to the guy who texted last night to ask how much a half hour outcall to Edinburgh would cost.
- I don't do half hour outcalls, and
- I don't answer texts.
It's a shame he didn't want domination, I could have introduced him to Big Bertha, my strap-on, hehe.
On that eye watering note, I'm off to prepare for tomorrow's day of incalls in sunny Glasgae.
Friday, 2 April 2010
It's the end of a very long two days in Carnoustie. That sounds negative and I don't mean it to, I've enjoyed every minute but heavens to Murgatroyd it's been diverse. I think it's fair to say I have seen my fair share of proud male members, but nothing could have prepared me for the apparition that awaited me yesterday. It kind of veered off to one side and had a very "Err, what ?" appearance.
Ever the consummate professional,( shut it ) I said nothing but my client must have caught my sideways glance.
"Aaaah, I see you've noticed my best friend."
"NO !! Not at all, I was just checking the bedside table, it's my OCD."
"Well, it's down to an unfortunate accident I had in 1992. I caught him in the springs of a trampoline."
Many thoughts went through my mind at that moment, the most obvious being "What the very feck were you doing on a trampoline naked ? Actually, don't answer that."
He said himself and his pals were trying to dismantle said trampoline when it snapped shut very suddenly and took him with it. Ouch. I'm not a man ( obviously ), but I have to tell you I was crossing my legs at that point. Never mind, it made for some seriously interesting reverse cow girl.
Anyway, the Scottish Parliament are on their Easter break and so am I. I'll be back and available in Glasgow on Monday. A very Happy Easter to you all and enjoy the time off work.