Friday, 17 November 2017

Come out, come out, wherever you are! It's Love Our Lurkers Time

It's that time of year when bloggers encourage their silent readers to come out and say "Hello." So come on out! I can't see you but I know you're there. I know it can be daunting to make a comment, I had been reading for many months before I plucked up the courage. Even then, I deleted my comment twice before pressing that blue [Publish] button.

Don't be shy ...

Don't be scared...

I won't eat you...


Then press that button, I'd love to hear from you.

You don't have to give a name, you can be completely anonymous if you want to.


Tuesday, 31 October 2017

In a Jam

If you've been reading here for a while you'll know that Harry finally agreed to spank me after 43 years, on the strict understanding that it would only ever be for fun. Somewhere along the line though, he became more assertive and discipline entered the mix. If I had any doubt that Harry has now truly embraced the ttwd dynamic, it was totally dispelled when he purchased two jam spoons recently. Yes, two, and not the regular kind either but the French version.

Early last month we spent a few days in France, stopping at a hypermarket on the way to our destination to buy supplies. Harry headed straight towards the wine section as I lagged behind looking at tableware. When I caught up with him he had stopped at a display of jam making utensils. In his hand was a large spoon-shaped object. It was obviously meant for stirring jam but it was flat on both sides, with no bowl, and a uniform thickness from end to end.  After tapping it in his palm he smiled and said it would do very nicely. Then he decided to take two.

I promise you I was an angel during that short break but, as we were loading the car to go home, Harry held up one of the spoons and said we'd try it out the next day. He only used it moderately for a few smacks but it left its sting, if not its mark. 

20" long, ½" thick, 2½" at widest point

I rarely get into any real trouble but I blotted my copybook a few days ago when I went on a short trip to the next village. As I picked up my bag to get out of the car, I noticed Harry's spectacles on the passenger seat. My car had been in a tight spot on our drive and he had turned it round for me, leaving his specs inside. I went to get my phone from my bag to let him know where they were and realised it was still charging on my bedside table. On my return Harry met me at the door but, instead of the usual greeting, he crooked his finger for me to follow him to the kitchen, where a jam spoon was placed prominently on the table. As he guided me across the table he said I would see a missed call from him on my phone. He had called to ask if he'd left his specs in my car and heard my phone ringing upstairs. It was a short spanking but even over jeans that thing hurt like the dickens.

I'm wondering whether I should use that photo on the lock screen of my phone, to remind me not to leave home without it again...


Thursday, 12 October 2017

Horsing Around

After reading my answers to the stolen meme, a few people expressed interest in hearing about my experience of horse riding.  I was reluctant to lay bare my ignominious defeat but, after revisiting the saga with Harry, I can see the funny side, so here it is:

Rosie Goes Riding

Harry and I were sitting on a clifftop above a deserted beach, desultorily watching the feeble little waves breaking on the shore. No surfing that day. We were about to turn away when a posse of riders on horseback came into sight, their mounts galloping along the shoreline, kicking up spray. Harry thought it would be wonderful to do that in moonlight and there began his romantic notion of us doing that very thing.

And so it was that I came to be in a stable yard, kitted out with riding hat and boots, amongst a gaggle of pony mad little girls. The lesson started in the yard with the basics, like how to climb aboard and hold the reins. Harry mentioned to the instructor that I was a little nervous and she assured him I'd be fine with Dora, she was a placid animal and could do the exercises in her sleep. But animals can smell fear, can't they? The sweet natured horse knew I was never going to be in charge right from the start.

Then, on to the paddock, which meant putting into practice what we had learned about stopping and starting. So I told Dora to "walk on" and squeezed with my knees but she was going nowhere until the instructor came to my rescue.

The following week, we reprised the first week's lesson before moving into a bigger paddock  to learn trotting. I was doing quite well until then but Dora refused to move on to the other paddock. We'd been shown how to smack a crop against the saddle, rather than the horse, but my feeble tap had no effect. The instructor leaned over and gave her a smart tap, galvanising her into sudden movement that nearly had me off. She behaved herself for the trotting but I knew who had the upper hand and it wasn't me. To finish the lesson we were given an exercise that involved turning round 360 degrees in the saddle, using the pommel. I'm a bit hazy now on how it was done but why on Earth would anyone want or need to do that? I think I made it eventually but I can't be sure and Harry doesn't remember!

Whilst I was making my inept attempts, Harry took to horseback like a duck to water. By the third week, I was still going round in circles when, in the next field, Harry was trotting around prior to going out on a ride with experienced pupils and their instructor. There had been a mistake in the allocation of horses that morning and the only one left for Harry to ride was Jago, a spirited animal, usually only ridden by instructors. Harry was thrown off unceremoniously but got straight back on. He relished the challenge and was allowed to ride the horse from then on. Each week, Jago threw him off in a different way, until he realised Harry wasn't going to give up.

I think Dora was tired on the day of my sixth lesson because she seemed to go into the 'I can do this in my sleep' mode. Anyway, I was plodding around with a semblance of knowing what I was doing when the stable owner came along and said I must go on a ride the following week.

Placid Dora came with me on my very first proper ride. We set off nicely, trotting along the bridle path, until she decided that wasn't enough fun and bolted off the track, heading determinedly in the direction of the nearby trunk road. I pulled on the reins in vain, hanging on for dear life, until the instructor caught up and took control. On return to the yard in every previous week, one or other of the pony mad little girls had offered to take Dora from me to do whatever had to be done between lessons. That time, none of them was around and I had to look after Dora myself. I dismounted, remembering we were not to let the horses drink straight away but Dora headed doggedly for the water trough. I actually managed to stop her and leant up against her shoulder, as we had been taught. Her response was to stomp hard on my foot! My howl of anguish at last produced help and Dora was led away by someone far more competent than I.

Harry, meantime, had also returned to the yard, where he found me hopping around in pain. He led me to his car, where he removed my boot from my rapidly swelling foot. That was the last time I ever went near a horse. Many years later my mother found my boots in the back of a cupboard and gave them to my elder daughter. The left boot still bore the muddy imprint of Dora's hoof.

Harry continued to ride out from the stables until he had the news that a careless person had ridden Jago into a tree and the poor horse had to be destroyed.

He never got to realise his romantic dream but he did get to ride with our daughters who, like him, took to it with ease.


Monday, 2 October 2017

Crime on the Increase!

I've come back from holiday to find that Blogland is experiencing a crimewave. With so many partners in crime, I couldn't resist this act of felony!


Marriages - One.

Proposals - One - but not from Harry, he never actually asked me to marry him.

Divorces - None.

Surgeries - One.

Tattoos - None. 

Piercings - The usual one in each ear.


Shot a gun - No, not my thing but Harry has six shotguns. He and our daughters all enjoy clay pigeon shooting.

Quit a job - Yes, I had to get out to save my sanity.

Been on TV - No.

Fallen in love - Twice. I was too young the first time but then Harry came along.

Driven across country - Hell no!

Hit a deer - I was in the passenger seat of my car, with Harry driving, when a muntjac careered into our path. No possibility of avoiding it so, sadly, it died.

Watched a birth - Do fur babies count? 

Ridden in an ambulance - No, thank goodness.

Sung karaoke - No, I couldn't inflict that on anyone.

Ice Skated - I've put on skates and slithered around for about 30 seconds but that probably doesn't count.

Been surfing - Harry has been a keen surfer since the late 60s, though he's had to slow down in the past few years; all that paddling out has put a strain on his shoulders. Back in the day, we had the requisite VW camper van and I was his surfer chick, hanging out with the girls whilst the men did their stuff. More women joined in over the years but I was not one of them!

Seen the ocean - many times.

Ridden a horse - When we were starry-eyed young lovers Harry had this romantic dream of us riding horses along the sea shore, so we both took lessons. He needed only two. I'd like to draw a veil over my experience; suffice to say the dream never became reality.

Almost died - No.

Been punched - No.

Punched back - See above.


In love now - Madly!

Thanks to Amy for taking the rap for all this burglary, ten spanks for each felony when Eric gets home!


Sunday, 3 September 2017

An Unwanted Spanking

A few nights ago Harry came to bed a while after I had turned out the lights.  No sooner had he got into bed than he was out again, rummaging about on the floor before getting back in. I turned around to find him sitting against the headboard with the fat bolster and a pillow on top of his legs. Having got my attention, he patted the pillow to indicate that I should go over his lap. There'd been no sass, no line had been crossed, so it could only be that Harry wanted to spank just to remind me that he can. Usually that makes me happy and keeps me on an even keel but I didn't want to be reminded right then, I'd been in bed over half an hour and I was sleepy! 

So I said "No!"

I couldn't see his face properly in the dark but I heard the tone as he said, "Rosie, get over here."

I was warm and cosy and snuggled further under the duvet saying, "No, I don't want to!"

Pulling the cover off me he said, sternly, "Rosamund, get your bottom over here NOW!"

Yikes! I can't remember the last time he called me by my proper name, so I scrambled over his lap and he began to spank. I really wasn't in the mood so I lay still, almost disconnected, until the spanks became harder and I began to wriggle and squawk. At that point Harry said he wished he'd picked up a paddle, not so that he could spank harder but to give his stinging palms a rest! He made his point perfectly well without the use of an implement and I was quite subdued by the time he let me up.

I snuggled up beside him ready for sleep but had barely closed my eyes before he said, softly, "Did you forget to say thank you?" He had never made that a requirement; it dates back to the beginning, when we spanked purely for fun. He had to go against his nature to smack my bottom, so I thanked him for spanking me each time and still do. I wasn't so thankful for the spanking I'd just received but kissed him and voiced the forgotten thanks because he does it to fulfil a need I was wired with from birth. He held out his arms and I cuddled into him, falling asleep on his shoulder, my favourite pillow.

When a spanking is over, there is usually no further discussion but the next morning he said, "You said no."

"I did, but what makes you raise it now?"

"I've been thinking about it."

"And what do you think?"

"If you say no, that raises a spanking to discipline level."

*Smiling* "I noticed that last night!"   

With a kiss and a swat he went off to do his chores, satisfied we were on the same page.

Sometimes, a spanking I don't want is one I really need.


Drawing extracted from an original artwork by Minelle Labraun that I am thrilled to say now hangs in my home.

Sunday, 13 August 2017

Ella's Summertime Meme

Life is good in Harry and Rosie Land. Ttwd is alive and well, though there hasn't been much spanking of late, as our younger daughter has been with us on her annual visit. She's such fun; there's never a dull moment when she's around. There was one dicey point when she asked me how I came to travel to America by myself and how did I know the women I went out to meet? She seemed satisfied with the half-truths I told her but that didn't stop her grilling Harry as well! In case inquiring minds want to know, Harry's itchy palm was relieved the moment he came back from dropping our daughter off at the airport for her flight back.

If you've read Ronnie's and Jan's recent posts you'll know that, along with Ami, we got together recently to meet our lovely friend Minelle, who was in London for a few days. We met for lunch, which carried on all afternoon. We talked non-stop and time just flew by. It looks likely that we shall make it a yearly event but a year is really too long to wait!

There's nothing more of note to tell you so, without further ado, here's my take on Ella's meme:

1. Name a tender song that can almost make you cry.
Forever Autumn by Justin Hayward. Gets me every time.

2. What is your favourite shade of lipstick? What about nail polish?
I wear a light berry shade of lipstick. Still searching for a replacement for my favourite 'Rouge Bordeaux' discontinued by Bourjois years ago. My favourite nail polish is Chanel's 'Rouge Noir'. Harry loves to see me wearing that one.

3. Name a children's nursery rhyme or song that you loved and to which you remember all the words.
I remember several but never had a favourite.

4. What outfit would you put on in the morning if you wanted to feel happy and well dressed? Something in which you think you look pretty damn good!
A long-sleeved Breton tee, indigo jeans and a red or navy jacket. Add red leather ballet flats, a red tote or handbag, a red coral necklace - and I'm good to go.

5. If you had enough money to buy just one, would it be a cottage by the ocean or a cabin in the mountains?
Mountains conjure up a picture of snow-capped peaks so, as I hate the nasty white stuff, it would have to be the beach.

6. If you are old enough, which one of the Beatles did you have a "thing" for?
I liked the Beatles but wasn't a great fan. I am grateful to John Lennon for writing 'Jealous Guy' which Bryan Ferry later recorded and made his own (swoon!). The group that covered my bedroom walls in the 60s was the Small Faces.

7. Name a smell that you love.
Harry has worn Eau Sauvage for forty years or more. I love to bury my face in his neck and inhale!

8. How often do you defuzz your legs? Wax, razor or electric?
I have sparse hair on my legs so don't have a regular routine, just shave when necessary, using a razor.

9. How/why did you choose your blog name?
I never imagined I'd need a blog name! I had been lurking for many months before I summoned up the nerve even to make a comment. I didn't have a cover ID then, so used the 'Anon' feature and the name Rosie, a nickname from my dim and distant past. Eventually, I set up the Google ID for Rosie Jones and the play on 'Roses are red' just followed on from there.

10. What do you like to eat for breakfast? To drink? Coffee or tea?
Harry's alarm goes off at 5.45am, which is far too early for me to be alert. He brings me tea before he leaves, then I have fruit, yoghurt and coffee later. Lots of coffee. Much later.

11. How many siblings do you have? Are you the oldest, a middle or the youngest child?
I have a sister and two brothers. I am the eldest and, yes, I was the bossy one.

12. What is your favourite salad dressing?
Honey mustard.

13. If you could sit next to anyone (alive) on a long plane trip, who would you pick?
I asked my younger daughter for help with this one and she suggested David Starkey, the historian, which is a great choice. I bet you all thought I'd say Bryan Ferry!

14. Have you ever gone shopping just to cheer yourself up?
No, I don't much care for shopping. Except for shoes. And handbags.

15. If there is one thing that can make you lose your temper, what would it be?
I used to have a door slamming, foot stamping, temper but I have mellowed with age. I can't remember the last time I got into a real paddy. I can get a bit antsy when Harry is channel flicking, though. I'm tempted to wrench the remote out of his hand but, fortunately, I've resisted so far.

16. Tell us about the best photograph you have ever had taken.
I don't like having my photograph taken; I am not at all photogenic. Harry used to develop and print his own photos back in the seventies so there are a few good ones from then. It's not the best photo I've ever had taken but my favourite is one our elder daughter (also a keen photographer) took of Harry and me in our hallway about five years ago. I have my eyes half closed and my mouth wide open, laughing, as Harry pecks kisses on my cheek. I look crazy but I love it.

17. Have you ever gone skinny-dipping and where?
Harry and I once went skinny-dipping with friends on a moonlit beach in Devon. We were carefree twenty-somethings then.

18. What do you like on your pizza? What don't you like on your pizza?
I like Hawaiian pizza or a plain margharita. I don't eat pizza often.

Thank you Ella for the great meme.


Friday, 30 June 2017

Whilst the Cat's Away

Before I go any further, I must apologise for not responding to the comments on my last post. It was particularly remiss of me because a few people were intrigued by Harry's being out trampolining. He started way back in school. I don't remember at what point he became a qualified coach; he set up his own club in the late 70s and has been coaching in his so-called spare time ever since. Abby asked whether I ever went with him, which I did a few times early on. I learned all the basic stuff but when he said it was time for me to have a go at a somersault I was a scaredy cat and cried off. When gentle persuasion didn't work he lost patience and said I must either try or get off his trampoline. So I got off his trampoline and that was that! He was out again Wednesday night but, although he still has all the moves, his body is telling him it's time to stop and in a week's time he will shut up shop.

Back in the present, I recently went away on a fun-filled holiday with a bunch of girlfriends, leaving Harry and Bob, a builder friend, to kick-start the renovations to our kitchen. It is a big job, everything had to be stripped out; only the ceiling remained intact. The units had been in storage for some time as we'd been so busy and, in the meantime, I had changed my mind about a couple of things in the design. Harry and I went over the revised plan that, basically, entailed buying a new fridge/freezer and an extra length of worktop. The first hint of trouble came when Harry FaceTimed me from a builders' merchant, holding up a length of worktop that bore no resemblance to the one we had bought. He had taken a dislike to the original type and wanted to buy a different one, on which he wanted my opinion. He had three lengths already loaded for the checkout but, as my friends commented, at least he checked in with me first. There were a number of things he didn't check with me, not least that the new fridge/freezer he bought is about fifteen inches taller than the old freezer, leaving no room for the bridging cabinet that was supposed to go above it. There were several compromises to be made on my return, which mostly amounted to sucking up the changes because what was done was done. I'm glad to report that I managed to accept it all with good grace and no bottom-warming was involved in the process. There was the traditional homecoming reconnection but that was for fun, except for the part where Harry tried out a newly acquired kitchen utensil. Ouch!

My angelic disposition lasted only until three days later, when we went back to the builders' merchant for paint and tiles. I got distracted by a display of outdoor paint that I wanted for refurbishing our garden arbour and got into trouble for not listening to what Harry said to me. Worse was to come at our next stop, a furniture showroom, where Harry wanted to look for a new dining table and chairs. I wanted to wait until I had decorated the dining room, my next project but one, but that idea was met with a very firm "No." I let my displeasure show with a couple of snarky remarks and Harry warned that I was sailing close to the wind, giving me a hard swat for good measure. There was no-one else around and I hoped there were no security cameras in operation! The new furniture arrives next week.

The rest of the shopping trip passed uneventfully but in the evening, as Harry handed me a glass of Champagne, he told me to note its colour. It was pink, a rather dark shade of pink, and I knew my bottom would be stinging before bedtime.

Now that we are both back at work the renovation is proceeding more slowly, but we are getting there. I'm aiming to catch up with some blog reading this weekend; I've missed my Blogland friends during the last couple of weeks.

I also need to catch up on three episodes of Poldark before Sunday evening. Last night I watched the very first episode of Outlander, which has at last come to non-subscription TV in the UK.

If only there were more than 24 hours in a day!