Wednesday, 30 January 2013

Catch a Falling Star

Hello Everyone!  I hope you won't mind if I don't reply individually this once.

Starman and I are completely and utterly overwhelmed with your kindness and prayers.

I am reading them all out to Starman and have left a short comment on Cat's kind post.

We have now had some time to process things, and we feel much calmer and are able to be more objective.  

These are the facts as we have been told:

-  Starman's PSA level is less than 10 nanograms per mililitre
-  his Gleason score is less or equal to 6 (they are unable to be more accurate)

The consultant called it a low-risk cancer.  

The MRI that was programmed for two weeks' time has been brought forward to Saturday because they have had a cancellation.  That's good because we then have to wait two weeks for the results.

The consultant is a little concerned because he says that they need to know whether there are any tumours hidden behind the two that they have found so far.  (One of these is very small at 5% on the left side whilst the other is bigger at 20% on the right side).  We didn't know that there was a left and right side of the prostate until now.  

Starman is a little concerned because he has had some back ache low down in his back for the last six months or so.  It could just be due to lifting logs, raking the drive or any number of outdoor activities he does around here.

The choices we have been asked to think about are:

-  active monitoring whilst watching for progress of the disease using PSA levels
-  active surveillance which is similar to the above but also means repeating the biopsies at intervals
-  external beam radiotherapy which is done five days a week for seven weeks
- brachyterapy which is where radioactive seeds are placed in the prostate to deliver     radiation directly into the gland
-  surgery to remove the prostate gland.

We feel it is better to wait for the results of the MRI before Starman makes any choices.  And he is also talking to other people who've had the disease to get a wider view.

It's all very scary as we had hoped so badly that the results would be positive.

That first evening driving back from the hospital was awful.  We hardly spoke to one another because we didn't know what to say.  We were just trying to keep calm and needed to process the information.  Consultants over here have no bedside manner at all!  They say it how it is.

Later in the kitchen I made us hot drinks and I sat at the kitchen table and sipped mine.    I felt completely numb.  Our son appeared in the kitchen and wanted to know all the details.

Starman started to explain things to him and I could feel the tears leak from the corners of my eyes.  Once started they became a flood.  I just sat there with my hands over my face and sobbed and sobbed.  I didn't want to, but I couldn't help it.  What I did want was for Starman to come across the kitchen and wrap his arms around me so I could tell him how much I loved him and that I would always be there for him.

Instead, he walked out of the kitchen into the living area with our son, still talking and making it obvious that I was being too noisy.

I felt that he was shutting down, and shutting me out.  We had an awful evening.  Neither of us could eat.  And although the TV was on, we weren't really watching it.  I went to bed quite early as I have to be up on a Tuesday at 5.30 and need to get my sleep.   I didn't hear Starman come to bed, but on 'early start' days he often sleeps in the spare room.  I didn't see him in the morning because he was still asleep when I left.  

I went round all day with a rock in my stomach.  But the people I work with are wonderful, and when you are teaching classes of children you find you are so taken up with what you are doing that there is no time to think about yourself.

When I arrived home I felt quite a bit better.  Starman came into the kitchen.  He was feeling better too.  We sat and had some lunch and a very long talk.  In essence, we reconnected.

Today we feel better still.  There are still worries, of course there are, but we are facing them together, and the numbness has to a certain extent worn off.  We are not happy about having to wait another two weeks for results, and we are worried about the outcome of those results, but we have to remain optimistic.  Life must go on as normal as possible.

I will try to keep an eye on blogs, but please excuse me if I don't make long comments at the moment.  

I will do my best to let you all know of any more developments.

As far as TTWD is concerned, we both want to carry on as far as we are able.  We feel a closeness that we haven't had for years.  Perhaps it is now more important than at any other time.  I don't claim to understand it, but our perspective has changed on life and how we are towards each other.

Finally, just to say once again how much we value your support and your prayers.  They mean so very much to both of us.  You are all incredible.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.  Please keep praying.

Many thankful hugs, Ami

Sunday, 27 January 2013

Holding Hands

Tomorrow looms and I am scared of the outcome.  So I may not post for a while.  I don't know how to put a song on here so instead I am putting the words for you to read.  It says it all.  Everything that I feel about my beloved Starman.  It could have been written for us, and I want to share it with my friends if I may.

"Wind Beneath my Wings"

It must have been cold there in my shadow,
To never have sunlight on your face.
You were content to let me shine, that's your way,
You always walked a step behind.

So I was the one with all the glory,
While you were the one with all the strength.
A beautiful face without a name for so long.
A beautiful smile to hide the pain.

Did you ever know that you're my hero,
And everything I would like to be?
I can fly higher than an eagle,
'Cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

It might have appeared to go unnoticed,
But I've got it all here in my heart.
I want you to know I know the truth, of course I know it.
I would be nothing without you.

Did you ever know that you're my hero?
You're everything I wish I could be,
I could fly higher than an eagle,
'Cause you are the wind beneath my wings.

Thank you, thank you,
Thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.

If the news is good, I'll be sure to put the flags out!  I'm hoping and praying it will be.

Hugs, Ami

Saturday, 26 January 2013

Saturday Snippets (2)

I was having virtual tea with Willie lately, and we enjoyed it so much, I thought you all might like to join me today.  Hats are required ladies!  Naturally, we shall eat outside in the virtual sunshine, and there will be cucumber and salmon sandwiches, egg and cress sandwiches, scones and butter with clotted cream and strawberry jam, and assorted cakes and pastries.  You may choose from a selection of teas, or coffee if you prefer.

Here is my favourite recipe for scones!


8 oz (225g) self-raising flour
1.5 oz (40g) caster sugar
A pinch of salt
3oz (75g) butter at room temperature
2 oz (50g) mixed dried fruit
1 large egg, beaten
3-4 tbspns buttermilk to mix
A little extra flour for dusting tops.

You will also need a lightly greased baking sheet and a 2 in (5 cm) cutter.

Pre-heat the oven to gas mark 7, 425 degrees F, 220 degrees C.

Begin by sifting the flour and salt into a bowl and sprinkling in the sugar, then rub the butter in lightly until the mixture looks crumbly.  Now sprinkle in the dried fruit, pour in the beaten egg and add 3 tbspns of the buttermilk.  Start to mix the dough with a knife and finish off with your hands - it should be soft but not sticky, so add more milk, a teaspoon at a time, if the dough seems too dry.

Next, form the dough into a ball and turn it out onto a lightly floured working surface.  Now roll it out very lightly to a round at least 1 inch (2.5 cm) thick, then cut the scones out by placing the cutter on the dough and giving it a sharp tap.  Don't twist the cutter, just push the dough out, then carry on until you are left only with trimmings - roll these and cut an extra scone.  Then place the scones on the lightly greased baking sheet and dust lightly with the extra flour.

Bake the scones in the top half of the oven for 10-12 minutes or until they are well risen and golden brown.  After that, remove them to a cooling tray and serve very fresh, split and spread with butter.

NOTE:  Scones do not keep well so are best eaten on the day they're made.  Any left over, however, will freeze perfectly well.  Don't worry if you can't get buttermilk, just use ordinary milk.

We live in the middle of a farming community, although we aren't farmers ourselves.  This cartoon was in the local paper recently.  I wonder what you make of it?  Isn't it funny how you suddenly gain a whole new perspective of things?!  I wonder what the old farmer has got planned?!

The snow here continues and we had another load last night.  But today the sun has returned and the temperatures are climbing.  Apparently it is set to thaw, which is a good thing, but no-one knows where all the melt-water is going to go.  Everything is saturated.  I thought I'd share a couple of beautiful pictures with you I took early this morning.

This is our driveway.  Don't worry, there are a million driveways that look like this in our part of the UK.

Sometimes we need to stand and enjoy the sheer beauty of our landscape.  The transformations due to the seasons are remarkable.

Our back yard borders open fields where in summer wheat, barley and oilseed rape are grown.  At this time of the year we get lots of different creatures coming almost up to our backdoor looking for food.  I so loved the story of Ian and Lillie and the deer.  We have deer too, but not on a regular basis, and mostly very small deer.  

This is a short post this week because I am off to my grandson's fifth birthday party.  I spoke to him on the phone last night and he told me how pleased he was with his Star Wars Starfighter we gave him.  He is heavily into Starwars and He-Man.  I just love watching his imagination at work.  We can learn a lot from the young.

I leave you with another newspaper cartoon.  I cut off the caption this time.  You might have your own ideas.

They are obviously "cane" mad in this country!

Adios Amigos.

Thursday, 24 January 2013

Ami's Brush with Maintenance!

Starman is back and I am happy again.  In the past (not so very long ago) I looked forward to the times when he was away.  But not any more.  I felt quite disfunctional.  It reverts back to the "Zeiltanzers"  or Rope Dancers.  I need that rope to be tight and  secure.  I no longer feel the need for lots of slack!  

We often get too reliant upon others.  To cut the umbilical can be difficult.  Will we sink or will  we swim?  Can we manage to reinvent our own identities, or do we have to somehow retie the knot taking up the slack and binding ourselves closer together?

Starman and I are friends.  We've been together for a very long time measured against some of the marriages around these days.  (I was once asked by a woman I didn't know, what husband I was on?  Was he my second, third, fourth?  She was stunned when I told her he was my first and only!)  We both have strong and often differing opinions, expressing them quite fiercely from time to time.  We've worked together as well as having our own specialisms.  Yet before Dd we continually pulled in different directions.  We danced towards the same objectives, yet danced out of step much of the way.  We stood united against the rest of the world, yet niggled all the time when we were together, often disagreeing on the smallest of detail.

The rope was nearly worn through.  It was so badly frayed that I am amazed it didn't suddenly snap.  We stumbled over the loops many times.  To acknowledge that the umbilical does not, in fact, have to be cut, is like suddenly seeing the sun appear from behind the clouds.  All becomes clear.  There is no need to reinvent our identities, just get rid of the loops, and tighten up.  I'm discovering that the tighter I am bound to Starman, the freer I feel, the more liberated I am!

Starman was dreadfully tired after his trip.  He worked for three days advising strategies to high-powered men in large companies, then drove over two hundred miles during rush hour in order to get home.  He hadn't phoned me before setting off, which is something he usually does.  As time went on I became more and more anxious.  He's a good driver, and the car is one of those with vorsprung durk technick, but I needed to check that he was okay, so I finally cracked and phoned him.  The phone rang and rang.  Just as I was losing hope, and thinking that I was going to have to get the police, fire and ambulance services out, he answered.

"Oh," he said.  "I was asleep."


"Yes.  I was so tired I pulled off into a service area and closed my eyes for a minute."  

I could hear noises in the background.

"I must have been asleep for around half an hour.  I didn't realise.  I'll get on my way now."

"Oh, well as long as you are alright.  How far are you from home?"

"I estimate around a hundred miles or so.  I should get back 7.30 ish.  Maybe 8."

I said goodbye and we finished our call.  I was so relieved.

It led me to think how important it is to let your other half know of your whereabouts when away from home.  Especially on longish journeys.  He had proved to me that I can trust him to drive safely.  But now I know that goes for me too.  If I trust him, then he should be able to trust me.  

I'm much better since the start of Dd at remembering my mobile when I leave the house.  And I'm much better at recharging it.  There hasn't had to be any threats or warnings.  And now there definitely won't have to be, because I have learned a lesson from this.  Trust is there for both of us.

He was home, as he said he would be, around 7.30.  He looked grey with tiredness, but he said the little rest stop had worked wonders.  

Needless to say we simply relaxed in front of the TV after supper, and for once Starman wasn't late coming up to bed.  He did his usual stroke, stroke, pat, and then went out like a light.

I woke as usual around 7.30 and pottered downstairs for our usual tea/coffee.  I put Starman's mug down on his bedside table and then sat in bed leaning against the bedhead drinking my coffee.  He was still snoozing.  I eventually put my mug down and slid back down under the duvet.  

Eventually I rubbed his leg.  "Don't let it get cold," I reminded him.

He struggled upright and reached for his tea, then he slid back down just like me.  We lay there in companionable silence for fifteen minutes of so.

I knew it was Thursday.  I lay thinking about what Thursday had come to mean to us.  (Last week it was Wednesday, but hey, what's a day between friends?!)  Starman looked so weary that I was determined to stamp down on my emotions and not mention a thing.  He simply didn't look as if he had the energy.


He turned on his side and reached over (you've guessed it) going straight for the boobs.  (And yes, Mount Everest again!  Only two of them!)



"Hmmmm" he repeated.

I didn't dare say 'Hmmmm' back to him because it could have led to a completely 'Hmmmm' conversation.


You could have heard a pin drop!

I gulped.  "Well I didn't want to remind you because I knew you were tired."

"Actually, I hadn't forgotten.  I don't need reminding anymore."

He was now rubbing my hip.

"I'm going to give you a choice."

"OMG, this is like one of these stories I spend my time reading" I thought, the hairs standing up along my arms and at the back of my neck.

"A choice?" I croaked.  My throat suddenly went dry and I had to reach for my glass of water that I always keep at the side of the bed.

"Yes" he said.  "We'll play it differently today."

My heart was hammering.

"But we've had a good week, haven't we?" I was still croaking despite the water.

"We have" he confirmed.  "But I've been away for three days of it.  So I was thinking. (Oh bugger, he was thinking!!!!  Is that bad?  Is that good?  What do I do?!!)  I'm going to let you make the choice this morning of what you would like me to spank you with after I've worn my hand out."

(Fellow sympathisers - just what would you do in this situation?!  In fact, have you been in this situation and never warned me about it?!!!  Shame on you all!!!)

I remained silent, too stunned to comment.

"Well, I'm waiting" he prompted me.

I managed a nervous giggle, swiftly trying to consider my options.  We were alone in the house so noise was not an issue.  My brain had atrophied.

"Why don't I get them everything and put it here for you to choose?" I asked, thinking he would take the bait without any problem.

"Oh no you don't" he told me.  "If I'm meant to be HOH, then within reason, you have to do as you are told.  And this is within reason."

Is it? I was thinking.  Oh help!

"Off you go, and fetch something over here."  He wasn't to be bargained with.

I slunk out of bed in the chilly air.  I have heard of wives dragging their feet across the bedroom, but I never expected it would be me.  This wasn't even discipline.  At least I didn't think it was.  At that moment I would never have dreamed of uttering the fateful words "whatever"!

Now fellow sympathisers - I had made a new purchase at the end of last week, in my quest for something a little less noisy.  But we hadn't been able to try it out.  

I had been in the local branch of a well known nationwide chemist's shop.  I was buying hair conditioner.  I had glanced sideways and a whole rack of a certain implement had caught my eye.  I don't possess one.  I use a comb with wide-apart teeth.  And when I dry my hair I use one that is barrel-shaped with spikes that stick out to hold the hair.  Have you guessed yet?

a hairbrush

What did you say???  I can't hear you!!!


Yes.  A sturdy type made out of wood, around 4ins by 5ins.  Very lightweight.  Nicely made.  Looks totally innocuous sitting on my chest of drawers.  No one will ever know...

I have read about these items of dread in hundreds of stories of spanked school girls.  I have seen pictures of them.  I know for a fact that a certain little person here has also just made the exciting purchase of one!  I have also read that someone in blogland has a silver backed one that she swears is quiet.  So how loud could it possibly be?!!!

I returned across the bedroom, climbed back on to the bed, and kneeling, handed it to Starman.

He grinned.  

He didn't say what is this, and why have you bought it.  He actually grinned.

Now I knew to be nervous!

Starman loved it.  I could tell from my first glance at his face.  I knew what he was thinking.  Believe me, after all these years I know my husband well - and his sense of humour!

He spent the next ten minutes trying out that hairbrush in other ways entirely!  I never knew a hairbrush could be so versatile!  And I hope your HOHs read this!  Because you all deserve it for holding out on me!

Anyway, I digress.

The time had come.  Starman positioned himself comfortably against several pillows placed against the bedhead, and motioned me over his lap.  By this time I was weak with laughter, so a went all jellyfish like.  He helped my bottom into position.  I had almost forgotten the intended use of the new acquisition.

He started slowly, gradually warming me up and encouraging me to relax.  He has learned to quickly about this aspect.  I willed myself to relax, my face, as usual, pillowed on my arms.  He carried on for a while - they were smarting now, but nothing I couldn't handle.  I'm getting used to it too.


My body arched upwards and if I could have crawled forwards off his lap I would have done. I felt my legs bend at the knees and kick upwards.  I couldn't stop them.  It was reflex action.  I shrieked some expletive of another, I can't remember what.  And anyway, it was too late because another hefty smack landed hot on the heels of the first.  If anything, it was the noisiest implement we had tried yet!

I told him in no uncertain terms that I felt that all hairbrushes should be taken out and burned.  I told him that it hurt like hell.  I told him that I'd really rather like him to stop, that this was only meant to be maintenance after all.

He didn't listen of course.  You know, I think he was well into it.  

I was still trying to crawl forwards but his left hand was firmly on the small of my back.

This was not sexy.  This was not turning me on.  

This bloody well hurt!

At one point the spanks got a little to high up and I had to ask him to spank lower down.  He was apologetic, and said he had wondered about that.  But he didn't stop!

"I can't cope with this" I managed to shriek.  "This is the most painful thing I've ever endured.  If ever you see fit to really discipline me, this is most definitely the thing you need to use.  In fact I'll make you a promise here and now.  I will be so good you will never, ever have cause to discipline me.  Not ever!"

He slowed and began rubbing in between flurries.  My eyes were wet, and I think one or two strokes more and I would have been in floods.  But I was so stunned by the pain of it that all I was trying to do was escape.  My usual compliant self had emigrated to Australia!

He put the dreaded object down and resumed the use of his hand.  

"You should feel the heat coming off this thing" he told me.

"My bottom isn't a thing" I replied, trying to shift about a bit.

He lifted me to my elbows and knees, still across him.  He was laughing again.

"Okay, your bottom.  I didn't know bottoms could glow."

He landed several more swats.  But these felt like velvet after the Horrible Hairbrush.  I shall refer to it as the HH for ever more!    

Gradually the swats died away and my bottom became the target of more exotic ministrations.  

After a certain interval (nudge nudge) we were lying side by side and he was extolling the merits of the HH.  "And just think," he was still laughing, "it can sit there without anyone even suspecting.  That was really clever of you to think of that Ami.!"

I wasn't going to tell him that you lot had inspired me.  In fact, you lot are very lucky I am still speaking to you.

But later on, after was had had a late breakfast, and I had showered, I puttered along the landing to his bathroom.  

"Look" I said lifting my robe.  "There's not a single mark.  Just a bit of redness.  And although it was uncomfortable sitting on a wooden kitchen chair, it wasn't unbearable.  I can't understand it, because it was an experience I don't want to repeat any time soon."

He laughed yet again.

"You're still redder than you think" he told me, and carried on shaving.  "And anyway Ami, you have to agree that I gave you the choice.  It was your decision.  You can't blame me!"

No, I thought.  I have no intention of blaming you.  It's those so-and-sos out there who are to blame!  And if I catch just one of them having a giggle, I shall throw a strop!

You better watch it you lot!!!

Traumatised Ami here, signing off....

Tuesday, 22 January 2013

Dancing Down the Road

It's late, and usually I am in bed by this time, but Starman is away and I miss him.  I couldn't sleep very well last night.  I was cold and once or twice I rolled over, and he wasn't there.  I've never before missed him so much.  And over the years he was often away more than at home.  In fact for three years, he lived away half across the country and only came home at weekends.  In that time I grew so very independent.  I was very busy holding down a teaching job, ferrying our young children to school, supervising building work being carried out to our dear old farmhouse, exercising the horses as often as I could find time.  The list was endless.  It wasn't a particularly good time.  I would look forwards to him coming home on a Friday night, and inevitably by bedtime we were arguing and at odds with each other.  I had been in control all week, and there was no way I was going to stand down for anyone.  I wouldn't give an inch.  It got so bad that eventually he decided to come home mid week, on a Wednesday night, and I think that was what saved us.

I've always quite liked it when he's gone away on business.  I could always get on with things without interference and interruption.  I could eat what I liked and go to bed when I liked without caustic comments about fattening foods, or the lateness of the hour.  I laugh to myself when I think about it.  

Because right now all I want is him back here, at home, with me!  

Dd has done something to my brain.  It has whirled it around inside and shaken things up.  Or perhaps it's my heart?  

All I know is that we were once like two people joined by a length of rope.  All we ever did was to pull in opposite directions.  If we ever got nearer, it was only in passing as we rushed past each other to pull away once more.  A strange dance of distance.  Of disharmony.

Now at last we are dancing like this:

I'm not terribly good at it.  There seem to be so many steps to learn, and the tempo keeps changing, and I occasionally I trip over his feet!  But he has his arm around me, his hand pressed into the middle of my back, and he is clasping my hand tightly in his.  We are dancing a very slow Waltz.  Around us are other couples.  Some of them are doing the Tango, and some are doing the Quick Step.  Some are even getting themselves into a Twist.

And we are watching them as if in slow motion.  We didn't begin to dance together until a little while ago.  I am a little confused by it all and it shows on my face.  Starman is moving me around the floor in a very confident fashion, (he's always been a very good dancer), and I have discovered that so long as I don't try to lead him, I don't get tangled up as much as when we first began.  The dance is beautiful and romantic, and it doesn't matter that we don't yet know the twiddly bits that many of the other couples are performing.  

I don't need a dance card, because Starman won't relinquish his hold on me.  I don't need to  follow in the same direction as other couples, because Starman is guiding me in his way.  I don't need to worry about our Waltz getting faster or becoming another dance completely.  Because if Starman wants to go faster I know he will do it slowly and surely, so that I am able to follow him and not get left behind.  And if he should fancy a Rumba or a Cha Cha, he will teach me the appropriate steps and variations, so there will be no need to worry about not getting it right.  And if I should try to tug away or try to spin instead of circle, I know he will gently pull me back in and correct my steps, ensuring that any forward motion is constant.

The rope that was always either tangled or at full stretch, is now firmly wound around our two bodies.  It is not tight enough to cause either of us discomfort.  But it binds us firmly and irrevocably together, its fibres as strong as titanium bands.

I still don't understand the emotions that flow through us both.  I still haven't fully reached the stage where I am completely compliant and vulnerable.  He still hasn't fully reached the stage where he realises that he is once again leading this dance.  

But once again, after half of a lifetime, we are dancing in comfortable harmony with each other.  I am gradually relaxing into him and relying on his strength to lead.  We are finally moving together, instead of moving apart.

Monday, 21 January 2013


I don't really know how to start this post.  I'm not too sure how to approach the subject matter.  But it's getting to the point that I need, not exactly advice, but reassurance that we're not simply some crazy, kinky couple.

The thing is this:  no-one told me how spanking would affect, well, you know what.  You don't?  How can I put this?  That it would lead to, well, certain feelings.  Feelings that won't be denied.  Feelings that demand action!

I suppose I'm going to have to suppress my inner-prude, and explain.

And before you say anything, yes, I know I've never had a punishment or really been disciplined.  But heck, Starman spanks really, really hard during our reaffirmation sessions.  And they are lengthy too.  And I get the bruises to prove it.  And I've had to make a major investment in arnica gel.

But the spankings themselves - they have this effect on us.  Well, mainly Starman.  And that means that I get to benefit too.  And well, actually, they have a certain effect on me too!  

Starman has gone off on business for a couple of days 'up north' as we say.  We sat in bed this morning drinking our usual cup of tea/coffee - whatever.  For me it was a wonderful start to a Monday, because it was a "snow day".  Yes, my school was closed due to heavy overnight snowfall!  (Major disruption in the UK a bit of snow, I can tell you!)  And we were chatting about everyday things.  

"You took your nightie off"  Starman was feeling down my hip.

"I was too hot.  I thought I would be cold last night, but somehow I ended up boiling."

"Can I remember you asking if you could wear that thing?"

Hmmm.  "I told you I wanted to wear it because it was so cold in our bedroom.  Don't you remember?"

"What, when you went to bed?"

"Yes.  You were watching the end of The Bourne Supremacy for the umpteenth time."

"Wonderful film."  Starman thought for a minute.

"Oh yes, now I remember."  Hmmmm.  "But you took it off?"

Were we going round in circles or not?

"Yes.  I felt stifled."

"Well that's a change isn't it?  Remember those awful Victorian style high necked things you used to wear?"

"Darling, that was years ago!  I've worn a tee-shirt style nightie for years!"

"Yes.  With knickers.   I remember telling you to lose the knickers once.  You really had a go at  me.  Asked me what you'd do if there was a fire.  Silly, stupid woman."  He grinned affectionately at me, and immediately nestled deeply into the valley between my breasts.

"Well I hope you are enjoying yourself down there" I remarked.

"You have no idea" he mumbled, and pounced on a nipple which immediately grew to the size of Mount Everest.  

Have they always done this?  You know, I don't think they did before.  I really can't remember.  I'm getting forgetful in a lot of areas.  But  I don't think I'd forget this.

It causes me to moan and writhe like a wanton woman.  And it does other things too.  It  makes me blush to think about it.  

"Honey!"  He came up for air.  

His voice had sounded all HOH for a second.

Hmmm.  This isn't maintenance morning.  Or reaffirmation.  Or whatever you prefer to call it.  But that sounded sincerely like he was thinking about a spanking.  I glanced down at him and he glanced up at me.

"It's all right Ami.  I know we have to get up soon, and anyway I can hear Number One Son down below in the kitchen talking to one of his men about the weather.  So I can't spank you as much as I'd like to..."

My goodness, wonders will never cease!  And I didn't say that out loud!  And another thing.  We tried, or rather he tried, to spank me under the duvet yesterday, and I can vouch for the fact that it doesn't work, and you get all tangled up and end up peeing yourself with laughing!  

"...but I need you to do your submissive bit."

He took my hand and guided it down under the aforesaid duvet.


"I know" he said.  "I was happily buried in your boobs, when I started thinking about your bottom, and how much I'd like to give it - what did you call it?  A good girl spanking? - and suddenly part of me has developed a mind of its own."

Granite?  Steel?  Titanium?  !!!!!!!!!!

"So... I was just thinking that maybe you could do something about it?"


He pulled me downwards.  I'd gone all 'jellyfish like'.  I was too amazed to breathe.  I was virtually hyperventilating.  

(I am still in shock!  In a very very good way I hasten to add!)

So I happily complied.  

And then it was my turn.


Forget the elusive O!  I forgot my own name!  It's a wonder I'm not referring to myself as Alicia or Gertrude! 

All I could see for a while was stars!!!

So afterwards, and it was getting very late to be in bed, I looked at him.  

"I can't believe all this" I said.

"I know" he said back.  "Isn't it weird?  I mean, does this always happen d'you think?"

"I don't know" I replied.  "It seems to be a 'side effect' that's getting stronger all the time.  I don't know what to think.  No-one has ever really discussed it.  It's not the sort of thing you'd  talk to your neighbour over the garden fence about!  

I have noticed that you, well, you know, you do have a tendency to feel rather big under me when I'm over your lap.  

But if this happens just from you thinking about it!"

Starman started to laugh and couldn't stop.

"I feel like an oversexed teenager again!"

"So" I said.  "We can forget the need for viagra then?"

"Oh definitely" he replied amidst chuckles. "I think more spanking could be in your future my sweet."

Okay, okay.  I don't for one minute think that that sounds very HOH.  I've yet to be convinced.  We seem to be at a bit of an impasse in that department at the moment.  

But I have to tell you, that I wouldn't in my wildest dreams have ever imagined such a conversation, or such a series of events, even six months ago!

So I suppose what I am asking you all is this.  Could you please explain this little 'side benefit' dear HOHs out there?  And does it always happen?  (Be honest!)  

Because if so, I think I'm going to become a spankaholic!

Saturday, 19 January 2013

Saturday Snippets

As I am often a 'football' widow on a Saturday, I thought I might start a little fun post.  No particular subject matter, just keeping it light.  A miscellany.

I mentioned recently that Starman seems to have developed a boob fixation.  Could this be due to the 'wobble' factor during a spanking I wonder?  What part of the body does your HOH find the most intriguing?


I still cannot sort out my  image of a two-toned blue face.  I've noticed, however, that when I post comments, the little thumbnail I chose always appears.  I've perused all the instructions, but nothing is where it should be, and nothing I press ever goes according to plan.  Like my life and everything else I suppose.  Perhaps this would be the best solution?


You didn't think you would get away without me mentioning cooking somewhere along the line did you?  This is a dish from Antonio Carluccio.  It's divine!


Sicilian Vegetable Stew


800g aubergine                                       1 large onion, peeled and chopped
2 tbspn olive oil                                        3 ripe tomatoes, cut into chunky cubes
1 tbspn tomatoe puree, diluted the a little water
1 tbspn caster sugar                                20 green pitted olives
1 tbspn capers                                          1 tbspn  white wine vinegar
chopped leaves and stalks of 1 head of celery
1 tbspn raisins                                           salt and pepper
1 tbspn pine kernels (optional)

Cut  the aubergine into 3cm chunks, soak in cold water for 5 minutes, then drain.  This will stop the aubergine from absorbing too much oil.

Fry the onion in the  olive oil in a large pan for a few minutes to soften. Put the aubergine chunks into the pan and fry until soft and tender, about 10 minutes.  Add the tomatoes, diluted tomato puree, sugar, capers, olives, vinegar, celery leaves and stalks, raisins and some salt and pepper and stew slowly until everything is melted together, about 30 minutes.

Stir in the pine kernels, if desired, and serve either cold or warm as a side dish, or by itself with crusty bread.


Finally my joke of the week.

"While creating women, God made a promise to men that good and obedient wives would be found in all corners of the world.

He then smiled, and made the Earth round!"


Hope you enjoyed my little bit of fun.  

I'm off to do the ironing now!  And remember.....

Bye for now....

Wednesday, 16 January 2013

True Colours

I don't know how to start this post.  I've pondered whether to write it a hundred times since Monday.  But I've just visited one or two other blogs, and it seems to me that I need the Circle, the Daisychain, to close round me at the moment.

No, it's not all bad.  And I do realise that it's my "worry" mode turned up as far as the dial will go.  But my head is spinning so badly, and my stomach is so filled with bats (yes, you heard, not butterflies, they're too pleasant) that I have to do some talking.

On Monday I had to take Starman to the hospital.  I took him there for a biopsy.  It seems he may have developed prostate cancer.

This is where I do so hope any man over the age of 40 is listening, and that any wife with a husband over the age of 40 is listening too.

Each year Starman has a 'well man' check up.  He always has a test called a PSA.  It is carried out to determine whether or not a man may be at risk of prostate cancer.  In the UK this test is not offered as a matter of course.  You have to ask for it.  Because Starman's father died of this disease 14 years ago, he has this test every single year.  There have never been any problems.  Until now.

The score came out on the high side and wheels immediately went into motion.  We have been backwards and forwards to hospital since November.  He has had CAT scans, ultra-sounds, gallons of blood tests.  In fact, you name it and he has had it.  And nothing conclusive.  

I have to add that he hasn't had any symptoms at all either.  Not getting up in the night to pee (that's always me!),  no swelling or enlargement, no pain or lack of sensation, no nothing!  

But the consultant at the hospital isn't happy.  Hence the biopsy.  In fact he had ten samples taken - five from each side.  He said is wasn't very pleasant, and caused him some discomfort, but nothing he couldn't handle, and no real pain.  And he hasn't had any side effects at all.  

So it takes about ten days to culture the samples.  And we get to know 12 days from now.  The consultant wants to see both of us.  As if I'd let Starman go alone!!!!

So this is why I'm not myself at the moment.  This is why one minute I'm way up in the air, and the next I'm down in the wagon ruts.  It all seems like a bad dream.  I keep thinking I'll wake up any minute.  

It's the waiting that's doing my head in.

Starman is very calm about it all.  Very stoic.  Very strong.  He is sleeping well, and continues to snore for England.  But I lie awake and worry worry worry.  I just want to know what we are fighting.  And if we aren't fighting anything, then the flags will go out so far you will see them wherever you live!

Now, see the difference between the two pictures?

All this time I've been struggling with our new dynamic.   I've done nothing but grumble and rant, moan and complain.  

The times I wondered whether I should just squish this before we went any further.  The times I wondered whether I have been right to introduce it at all.  The times I thought that maybe it is all too much for either of us to think about at the moment.

We had quite heavy snow for a couple of days.  Grim, grey skies.  Large thick flakes.  Then last night the stars came out.  We can see the plough clearly through our bedroom windows and when the moon rises it has a tendency to wake us up as it shines directly on our faces.  But last night we both slept well, without any of the usual tossing and turning.  The temperatures dropped to -12 C and for once I didn't sleep with my arms on top of the duvet.

Overnight outside turned into fairyland.  The sky was blue, the sun came up, and the frost glittered off the bare branches like diamonds.

Starman went downstairs and did my job.  He brought me coffee back to bed, and then climbed back in with me.

For once the house was quiet.

"Come on old girl, what's wrong?"

It was 'face in chest hair' time.  (No!  not my chest hair - his!  No!  I don't have chest hair!  Oh for goodness sake!)

I told him how worried I was and that I couldn't bear anything to happen to him.  We chatted for a while, him a lot calmer than me.

"So... " he said.  "You want a bit of re-assurance then?"

"Well, only if you feel your hand can manage it.  I mean, well, yes please.  But don't worry, I'll lie by your side and you can just lean over.  I don't want cause you any discomfort."

"I'll be just fine.  Up you go, over my lap."

The bedroom was freezing.  The underfloor heating wasn't coping.  I leapt out of bed.  "I'll just put my nightie on" I told him.

"No you won't" he became suddenly very HOH.  "Spankings are with nothing on."  Oh...

I climbed back on the bed and over his lap, wriggling to get into position, which isn't the easiest as my head tends to hand over the edge of the bed.

"Now just get up again and go get me that wooden spatula thing."   Oh....bloody hell, not that again!

I climbed back down.  "Are you sure?  I mean.  I'm not arguing, but what about the paddle instead?"

"No.  I like that little spatula."  He would!

"Look," I said handing the wretched thing to him.  "I'm not demanding.  But do you think you might give me a warm up with your hand first.  That thing stings very badly."

He considered.  I got back into position.


He has come a long way has Starman.  I am back in full admiration mode.

"I'm sorry I've been a bit sharp and edgy this last couple of days.  It's been a long time you know.  I don't want this.  But I need it.  I don't like it at the time.  But I like the way I feel afterwards."

Starman is spanking away.  For once he doesn't say more than a couple of words.  So I shut up and concentrate on not clenching.  

Good grief he has learned a lot.  You'd think he'd been having lessons.

The spanking gradually built and built.  In between some of the spanks he rubbed my bottom.  Then there were little flurries of six or seven spanks.  I became a bit restless.  Some were actually beginning to hurt quite a bit.  I rested my forehead on my right arm.  One or two "Ows" were slipping out.

Starman stopped.

I kept my face down.  I could feel him reach for something.


My legs lifted, I swear totally involuntarily, in complete harmony, from the bed. Oh heavens that hurt!

Then again and again and again.

And no rubs this time.  

Well, I thought, trying hard to control my breathing, this is what I wanted, this is what I asked for, this is what I need.  Oh Ow!!!

I was already more than a bit sore from his hand.  This was the icing on the cake!  I started to cry.

I felt Starman slow.  "Are you crying?  I'm not going to carry on if  you're crying."  Oh Oh Oh

"No, I'm fine" I managed to gasp out convincingly.  "Just carry on.  You're doing really well."

Now was I supposed to say that?  It hurt like hell but I didn't want him to stop.  I needed this to rid me of my demons.  This wasn't just reassurance, or readjustment, or maintenance, or just you watch your attitude for the rest of the week.  It was like a reaffirmation of vows.  A final letting go of the old angst at long last.  

I tried my best to cry quietly.  I worked very hard not to kick my feet up to high.  But I now understand that feet and legs have a mind of their own!  I gripped the side of the bed and tried to take deep breaths, but the occasional Ow (okay, the frequent Ow) kept coming out of my  mouth.

At last he stopped and put the wooden thing down.  Hated, hated wooden thing!

And then....

He started all over with his hand!

"Actually, I've been thinking" he said.  I just knew he had been far too quiet.

"You've missed two weeks worth of spanking.  So I'd better make up for it."

"You could always do it another day" I suggested.

"No.  I don't know when we'll get another quiet time around here" he replied.

It just went on and on.  

This time, in between flurries of spanks, he rubbed my bottom.

"It's getting good and red" he remarked, stopping to rub.

"May I get up now please?" I asked.

"No not yet.  You can get up when I say so" he replied.  Oh HOH HOH HOH!!!

Eventually after a "super-flurry" he slowed and stopped.

I lay exhausted.  A good half hour had passed.  And this was maintenance???  Please explain dear readers, because I understand less as the weeks go by!

I crawled off his lap and lay gingerly on my back sinking into the soft mattress.

Then my ears couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"I think I'd like some sex now please" he pinned me down.  Ouch!


Afterwards we talked a lot more.  I was nervous he might have overdone the exercise.  But he felt really fine.

And later, when he was shaving, I crept into the bathroom behind him.  I put my arms round his middle and hugged him and kissed the side of his neck.

"I'm so scared.  I just don't want anything to happen to you" I whispered.

"We'll be all right old girl" he reassured me, trying to shave without cutting himself.

"I love you" I told him.  "I just want you to know that you've made me feel so good.  You've set me up for the week.  I just can't do without this now.  Thank you."  

I left him to carry on and I went back to our ensuite.  (He has the big bathroom.)

I turned to scurry past the full-length mirror just through the entrance to our bedroom.

Yes, you've guessed it.  

Red, black, blue and purple.  

Whoopy do!

So, this is "sore-bottomed from deepest, darkest, rural England" signing off.

(Oh yes, and any prayers please, would be gratefully accepted, because I, for one, am still sick with worry.)