Yesterday I was delighted to meet the cream of Juneathon: JogBlog herself, Helsieboo and KnittingPenguin, and some young men they had in tow. They plied me with wine and flapjack, and I wish I could have stayed longer.
Today I went for a five mile run along the front and then inland by way of Bishopstone. Along the inland paths the rain had weighed the nettles down so that I ran a stinging gauntlet. I know this sort of thing is all the rage with the young people. I wonder if I might exploit this vogue for sado-masochistic erotica with an effort of my own. I might call it Fifth Shades of Puce. Some fragments:
'Clytemnestra gazed up into Tarquin's proud lustful eyes. "Would you like to come and see my race medals?", he said. It was an order, not a question. She felt weak, and weaker still as her eyes were drawn to his running shorts, whose fabric strained to contain his swelling manhood. "Take off your Mizunos", he mumbled huskily….[to be continued].
