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Apr. 1st, 2008 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
johnny9fingersGiven that I have time for scales and tidying and such, and have done some small amount of both, I betook me to my blog; else how would you know all the idiocies that spin through my brain to splutter forth as prose; and how poor your lives would be without such wisdom.
As I have been known to claim, I am delicate from birth and not suited for drudgery, yet, when absolutely forced into it by shame (that great motivator) I have been known to drudge.
Somewhere in my past I took a wrong turn and so I find myself at forty-six, and without a valet. Now to many of you, being robust coves at heart, this is a mere bagatelle, a frippery, a....superfluous and needless civilised appurtenance that backwoodsmen would spurn and all 'true chaps' would eschew out of sheer manliness. But I ask you, how many of us pick up our own socks? Regularly? I mean I'm as familiar as the next man with a washing-machine-device, and they all have simple instructive pictures on 'em which match the simple instructive pictures on clothes labels and detergent: so I don't need to know much about the process thereof, but it's the fucking repetitive regularity of it all that defeats me. I've tried ritualising the operations attendent in making a house/flat/apartment function at its most efficient, but boredom eventually overwhelms any good intentions.
However, these past days have wrought some small change in me. Apart from old not-quite-flames popping out of the woodwork asking how I am (why does that happen the minute one starts a new relationship?) which has amused, I'm also changing in other ways. I hardly smoked anything at all in Milady's company. No spliff dudes.....Of course, as she's off skiing at present, the bad habits have crept back, but.....this bodes well.
Do women socialise chaps like me? Without the company of women I will revert to a caveman unless I have money for staff. Which is not that they pick up after me overmuch: more that they keep me to civilised standards, so I have to pick up after myself. I begin to understand why many hermits were lice-infested, hair-shirt-wearing, filthy, smelly old people. I refuse to become one of them, my dears. Besides, I am addicted to the pleasure of bathing; I still think of the two novel bath as the absolute pinnacle of sybaritic indulgence; especially if also graced by a handmaiden, caviar blinis, and a chilled Château d'Yquem.
As I have been known to claim, I am delicate from birth and not suited for drudgery, yet, when absolutely forced into it by shame (that great motivator) I have been known to drudge.
Somewhere in my past I took a wrong turn and so I find myself at forty-six, and without a valet. Now to many of you, being robust coves at heart, this is a mere bagatelle, a frippery, a....superfluous and needless civilised appurtenance that backwoodsmen would spurn and all 'true chaps' would eschew out of sheer manliness. But I ask you, how many of us pick up our own socks? Regularly? I mean I'm as familiar as the next man with a washing-machine-device, and they all have simple instructive pictures on 'em which match the simple instructive pictures on clothes labels and detergent: so I don't need to know much about the process thereof, but it's the fucking repetitive regularity of it all that defeats me. I've tried ritualising the operations attendent in making a house/flat/apartment function at its most efficient, but boredom eventually overwhelms any good intentions.
However, these past days have wrought some small change in me. Apart from old not-quite-flames popping out of the woodwork asking how I am (why does that happen the minute one starts a new relationship?) which has amused, I'm also changing in other ways. I hardly smoked anything at all in Milady's company. No spliff dudes.....Of course, as she's off skiing at present, the bad habits have crept back, but.....this bodes well.
Do women socialise chaps like me? Without the company of women I will revert to a caveman unless I have money for staff. Which is not that they pick up after me overmuch: more that they keep me to civilised standards, so I have to pick up after myself. I begin to understand why many hermits were lice-infested, hair-shirt-wearing, filthy, smelly old people. I refuse to become one of them, my dears. Besides, I am addicted to the pleasure of bathing; I still think of the two novel bath as the absolute pinnacle of sybaritic indulgence; especially if also graced by a handmaiden, caviar blinis, and a chilled Château d'Yquem.
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Date: 2008-04-01 11:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 12:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 09:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 12:13 am (UTC)This is not entirely your fault. Civilisation collapsed, in case you hadn't noticed.
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Date: 2008-04-02 09:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 06:31 am (UTC)I miss Gwladys. She was fun.
M
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Date: 2008-04-02 09:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 11:34 am (UTC)M
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Date: 2008-04-02 11:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 12:59 pm (UTC)M
no subject
Date: 2008-04-02 02:23 pm (UTC)