High Jinks in the Island Wood

IMG_0355When I arrived at the Island Wood for my daily walk yesterday, I was met by a very strange sight. A woman I know well, a very respectable and sensible lady, was pacing up and down beside her car, and seemed to be in the middle of some kind of emotional crisis.
When I drew up, she turned towards me with such enthusiasm that I was quite taken aback – until she saw who I was. ‘Jesus,’ says she. Throwing her arms up in despair and resuming her frantic walking ‘I’m looking for a man. Where in God’s name are all the men of Newmarket? I thought the place would only be crawling with them at this hour of the morning’
‘What man?’ says I, still not quite getting what she was on about.
‘Any man at all,’ says she, nearly tearing her hair out. ‘I’m in no position to be fussy’
Then, the awful truth dawned on me and I wasn’t in the better of it. The woman was in the middle of some desperate and overwhelming attack of sexual frustration. Jeez, the hairs stood on the back of my neck at such wantonness. I mean, I’m no prude but her behaviour.. I mean. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do with myself. Even more blatant was the fact that this well brought up lady had the back doors of her Fiesta wide open. There was obviously going to be very little time spent on the getting to know you business, I thought. Still, maybe at this stage in life, it was permissible to cut through the preliminaries and get down to brass tacks immediately.
Mother of God, I thought, is this what’s in store for us all when we get a bit older – skulking in the wood, at the crack of dawn, waiting to proposition, willy nilly, any stray man that happens to appear among the evergreens.
Before I could get my thoughts together, there was the sound of a vehicle approaching and my woman only turns around with the most pitiful expression of hope on her face. It was embarrassing to see it. I didn’t even have to look towards the new arrival to see if it was a man because I could see from the expression of bliss on her face that her prayers had been answered, and that it was definitely a male who was after pulling in. Forgetting all about me, she gave a whoop of joy and made a beeline for the man emerging from the driver’s seat.
Trust me, I didn’t really want to witness the poor creature making a show of herself but I wasn’t fast enough in covering my ears nor were my legs fast enough to get me out of there. And then, it was too late and she’d opened her mouth to speak….
‘Thank God,’ says she, putting out her hands to your man, ‘There’s a cat trapped somewhere in my car and I’ve been waiting here for ages for a man who knows how to open the bonnet of a Fiesta, so I can get him out before he gets killed,or smothered or something. Shure Mary and myself are both useless. He’s after coming all the way from town inside somewhere in the car. I think he must be inside the engine ‘cos he’s not in the front or back seats nor the boot, I’ve the inside searched and I’ve opened all the doors to give him a chance to escape but…..’
I looked at her and the car and the man. A cat, a cat! Trapped inside in her car and….
Jesus I must be losing my marbles altogether. I mean, imagine me thinking what I was actually thinking about an eminently respectable woman like…..
My God, I’ve never been the same since the menopause. Maybe, I really should go on HRT, maybe…..
đŸ™„Dedicated to the woman in trouble yesterday, with the hope that she did get cat out of car. The man, while able to open the bonnet, was unable to locate the cat so it was a case of going off to her local garage to flush him out.

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