Great Britain +

#31 · November 3, 2020, 8:58 am

Nice. Made me laugh at the end. Thanks. 'Carl' is not an classic English name, more Swedish, like 'Bjorn' and 'Bonk'. Maybe his other lady friends know him as Rodger. I recall an incident in Harfield Road, Cape Town, many years ago. My friend 'Mutt' Harmuth was running after Mickey Molyneux and Dick Peacock, shouting "Mick, Dick" to get their attention. He suddenly stopped and burst out laughing, as did the rest of our gang. Some of the good girls who hung out with us found that funny too. My guess is that good girls like bad boys for all the wrong reasons that feel oh so dangerously right at the time. Where's a good boy when she needs him? Bad boys will always be there.

#32 · November 5, 2020, 6:00 am

Weird! Read it slowly.

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#33 · November 5, 2020, 8:19 am

You should write more in this vein. It is strangely weird, interesting and perplexing. A few comments. I suggest that his wife left him not because he was a faithless hound but because he was no Thatcherite. He did not own a car and used unreliable public bus transport after the age of 26 to get around, that being Maggie's and many wives' definition of a loser. Having said that, I know of several people of my generation who met wives and lovers in London on the Tube, a relatively reliable form of classless transport used by everyone, as opposed to busses which were according to Norman Tebbit, once Chairman of the Conservative Party, exclusively the preserve of the smelly hoi poloi. I have been chatted up once on the Tube and once on the bus. Sadly not lately. That might suggest that I an unattractive. In my defence I would say that British reserve and manners is to bury your face in a book or a newspaper, today a smartphone, and not talk to strangers or even look at them on public transport. To get up and go from a warm bus seat on a wet Halloween night with a made-up hag, well, that defies belief and all know stereotypes. Spooky!