What Day Is It?

What day is it? I'm not sure, maybe Tuesday? Or Wednesday? It has been a nothing much sort of a day. Started cold. Got colder. Warmed up a degree or two. Snowed a bit. Snow turned to sleet. Sleet became rain. Then it got dark.

I watched television this evening for an hour or two. Ask me what I watched. No don't bother. I can't remember. All I know is that it was crap. Inane rubbish. Honestly I can't recall any of it.

Oh I do remember something. It was about the birth of the railways. It was spoilt by the presenter feeling the need to shout everything at the top of his voice. At one stage he decided that he would run and shout at the same time. This was so that he could demonstrate how quickly the railways grew in the early days. He obviously thinks of TV viewers as brain dead idiots. He might have a point.

My brain isn't working properly now. This is another of those times when I can think of nothing to write about. Give me a minute please.

Once upon a time, when I was still a callow, unrough youth, I went into a bar and ordered ten large whiskies. My intention was to see how quickly I would get drunk. I drank them quickly one after the other, just knocking them back. I vaguely remember falling off the bar stool. Nothing after that. I suppose you might call that a failed experiment.



The first time I ever properly did 'it' with a girl, was on a cold night in a small heated greenhouse, behind a cobblers shop in a small village in North East Scotland. I remember that it was a pleasant enough experience, but nothing to write home about. More experimental than anything actually. On my part anyway. I can't speak for the girl of course although she seemed to know what she was doing, and the greenhouse was her idea. Not that I would have written home about it you understand. I got a slight burn on my leg from the paraffin heater. We were discovered by the greenhouse owner. Who having heard a pane of glass shatter as she accidentally put her shoe through it, shone his torch on our nakedness, whilst shouting that he had phoned the police and would be talking to our parents. He did neither of those two things as far as I am aware. In our haste to leave she left her knickers behind. I like to imagine that the mans wife found them eventually and accused him of getting up to no good.
Neither she nor I were put off by this incident, and continued doing 'it' in the backseat leather sumptuousness of her brothers car, which he had left unlocked in the garage, whilst he was serving in the army in Germany.
Eventually I felt I had learned enough about 'it' from her and moved onto pastures new. Or she might have dumped me. I can't remember. OK she did dump me. I was still a learner but I never stopped experimenting and eventually I became an expert lover. Something which, if the opportunity arises, and not just the opportunity, I still like to have a go at to this day.

Tuesday? I think it's Tuesday.