No, I wasn’t hallucinating…

Surreal moment in Maisie’s – the tiniest and oldest Lanark pub – last-night. Had me almost sure I’d overdone the relaxation a little – and vowing never again…

Into the throng of rough-palmed drunken sweaty 40+ men, strode three black amazons wearing nowt but calf-high, strappy 6″ heeled sandals; gold lame bikini tops; and the teeniest tiniest weeniest lycra micro-mini skirts.

One was pregnant and holding the hand of the smallest white local man I’ve ever seen, looking down onto the top of his head as she spoke to him. He in turn stroked her tummy with the air of a besotted proprietor.

Bringing up the rear was a tiny white woman – no taller than my 9 yr old – and with the emaciated frame of a schedule 1 drug connoisseur. She was relatively nun-like in her choice of clothing: sequinned vest top and hot pants.

The tallest of the amazonian proportioned women approached the bar – and lo, the bustling throng of men parted as though she were brandishing some god-like staff. One little man – 70 yr old Tommy, retired farm labourer – stood mesmerised by the long, gleaming and glossy thighs that were so tantalising close to him, his bottom jaw sagging, his eyes wide.

As she stretched across the bar for the ordered drinks (sambuca shots and pints) the lycra hem of her teeny tiny micra-mini skirt began to roll up over her majestic and substantial globed buttocks. She pulled it down. She stretched out for the drinks. The hem rolled. She pulled it back down.

And so went the rest of the night.

Now, Maisie’s is generally very full of bums and complete arses. But I can sincerely say that nothing compares to my experience last-night!



last night the birds sang clear and strong-voiced in the quietness of the valley…the pipistrels swooped from the house eaves and amongst the darkening trees…the air was laden with promise of a good tomorrow…

and today is wonderful

the street has been busy with day-trippers and neighbours car-washing and grass-strimming. The kids are running wild at the top of the garden. They’ve built themselves a ‘den’ and have been busy all morning ferrying goodies from the house to furnish their sweety larder…I can hear their laughter and squeals. Evan has a water gun and has Ana and Jamie soaked.

I’ve swept and polished and am preparing for tonight’s theatre (Ibsen at the Citz) and meal and clubbing (gay gay gay all the way!) and night spent at E’s house. Oh freedom!!

I could not leave this countryside home – but the prospect of a night in the city is so exhilirating! Adult company and fun! The smell of baking tarmac petrol fumes and kebab shops and the bedazzling spectacle of youth displaying in all its finery.

My own serious earnest youth is remembered with irony now. The 18 yr old me was studious and beset with self-consciousness.

Oh! Being forty+ is liberating!! I have no desire to prove my worthiness now. No hang-ups about appearance (I’ll never be better than I am just this moment in time!!). I just want to laugh and be happy! To hell with it!