Miles of Smiles Part Three

Christmas & Beyond

I used to love Christmas, the music, tree and all its decorations, cooking for lots of people and presents and most importantly, the Christmas Service at our local Church. The second last time we attended the Service, I went dressed in my Father Christmas outfit and the looks I got from the little kids present (and some of the parents) were worth every bucket of sweat I shed in that hour.
Since the divorce, I haven't been back to a Christmas Service, perhaps next year I will pluck up the courage.

So we were ready, off to bed early, trifle made, meat ready to go into the oven, presents wrapped and Dad sleeping. The previous three year Brian,Dee and their family had opened their homes to us and we had embraced this as place of safety to survive the day, this year we wanted it to be different.
We awoke, showered, wished each other Merry Christmas and my Mom and I got my Dad out of his bed, onto the wheelchair and then into his lazyboy chair, Mom does 90% of it and I simply assist because I want to be there, its more important than life itself that I do something.
Presents on the coffee table, Simon the official distributor and me with my Canon shooting the whole event. 
Lunch was amazing, my Mom feeding my Dad and the girls and I unable to move as we felt so full we   were not able to lie on our bellies for fear that our heads would not reach the pillows.
It was our third Christmas together and finally the spirit was back again.

The next day was shell hunting, (a task so dangerous that I was forced to reveal my torso to ward off the predators), a swim in the sea and supper with Brad and Vicky. This trip had also allowed us to meet old friends, some for the first time. In an age of electronic friendships, international friendships are possible and on this trip I was determined to meet as many of my friends I had never seen face to face, Brad and Vicky are not one of those, they have a house that oozes love, food, fellowship and  amazing wine. It was a home to all who entered it and no-one left empty handed. 

In life there are moments where you can just feel blessed and cared for, this holiday was reaching a stage where old wounds that were sealed were being healed, it was a spiritual experience where all we encountered was love and beauty and I felt like breathing again.

Coffee & Sex

The origin of coffee dates back to the ninth century and what was discovered by an Ethiopian goat herder by the name of Kaldi.
The word "coffee" basically means "wine of the bean" and this addictive black magic brew has intoxicated and brought enjoyment to people all over the world. I am tempted to say that it is enjoyed more than sex and if you question this, then definitely more often than the pleasurable procreation participated in by millions.

The coffee bean was nibbled, crushed, burnt and finally boiled before it was lured into releasing its essence. It was used for medicinal purposes, aphrodisiac and taken during times of prayer before it eventually led to the first coffee shop being opened in Istanbul in the middle 1500's.
The first organised brothel however dates back to 5 BC and the Greeks are attributed with this honour.
Since then coffee shops and brothels have spread to all corners of the earth.
I must interrupt and raise a question if I may, what did people drink before Kaldi and his wandering herd of goats discovered the cocoon of caffeine. I can see the tea-drinkers bouncing up and down and clapping their hands with glee and Aunty Mildred stumbling into the room with a glass of Merlot and half its contents dribbling down her chin,
Yes Yes tea and wine have been around longer, but neither are as seductive or erotic as a roll under a duvet or a cuppachino. Sharing coffee with a friend is one of the 1.5 billion cups consumed a day, that is three times more than people making love to each other.

Just think of the different types of coffee, cuppachino, expresso, latte, mocha java, and you seem to have words so seductive that they will bring a blush to many a fair maiden.

So on that sexy note, Nite All

Dear Dr Ted . . . .

Dear Dr Ted

For purposes of this correspondence please refer to me as Dwight. I am a 39 year old male, single and in need of urgent advice.

I have an incredible craving for a glass of white chilled Chardonnay. Am I gay?

Dwight

Dear Dwight,

I can only surmise that you have run out of beer, red wine, whisky, bourbon, tequila and and coffee.

Have you considered a trip to the local pub?

I am not in the habit of checking my emails for lavender scented wallpapers, but I have to ask, do you like long walks in fabric outlets?

I am unfortunately between relationships and as such can recommend such social organisations like Manchester United, The Sharks Rugby Union, Country Music and Australian Footie.

Good luck and cheers

Dr Ted

Supper and Pole Dancing

Supper with a pole dancer, need I elaborate?

Well perhaps I should. Pole dancing originated in America in the 1920's when female dancers would perform in large tents using the tent poles as their prop of choice.
It is an activity that moved into strip clubs and often incorporated lap-dancing and more sensual forms of entertainment.

So tonight I had supper with a pole dancer, female of course as male pole dancing has never reached the acclaimed heights it might have due to agonising mishaps. The most significant being the dreaded 3 Adam Apple syndrome.

It is now common practice I have been informed for homes to have portable poles for "practice" and recreational reasons. I can imagine a quick twirl after a fondue and applause from appreciative dinner guests and family members.

So back to dinner, salad and a pizza pie, a caraffe of red wine and an conversation that ranged from pole dancing, trick or treating and touched briefly on parenting and women who sleep with knives under their pillows.

It is these special moments that makes me appreciate my diverse and wonderful friends and allows me make a statement as follows; I was taken to dinner by a pole dancer.

Nite all

Two Wheeler Horror

So then there was cycling. Balancing your entire body weight on a piece of foam infused metal the size of a small rodent!

But it gets better. It is not motorised, good grief no! It is powered by you moving from side to side on a metal seat whilst pedalling until your lungs explode. After the first 10 minutes you have lost all feeling of where your body meets the bicycle. You would endure less pain if you were kicked repeatedly in the face for a day, plus you would still be able to walk afterwards NORMALLY!

Then why in the name of all that it pure, pain free and pretty would I put myself through this? Because a 12 year old angel used the magic phrase, 'Please Daddy'

On the positive side I didn't fall or swear at any old woman or dogs, I didn't spit straight ahead and forget that spit on a bicycle has a boomerang effect and I made Nicole very happy. Her pink bike is her pride and joy.

In my opinion, bicycles should have motors, bucket seats and a roof, oh hang on that's already been invented! Its called a motor car!

All in all it was a good weekend with my girls and now I have 3 days of work before I head to the Mother City to see what needs to be seen and hug those who need to be hugged. A good weekend for a birthday and a good place to spend it. I will shout at the mountain and wave my fist at the slow waiter and sip ale from the lips of a cold bottle and smile. I will ask irrelevant questions like 'Is this fish fresh' and 'if they called onion rings, does anyone answer them'? I will insist on french fries as chips have the sublime ability to cause mild to severe flatulence and to ask for my salad on the side, the other side. And that's just breakfast.

I am excited to see old friends again and laugh together. Memories are like a good red wine that tastes better as it ages and must be shared to be properly enjoyed.

Till next time

Good night.