Saturday, 30 March 2013

Saturday Snippets (8)


In orthodox households all over the world, housewives still prepare for the Easter feast: eggs are hardboiled, dyed and decorated, cakes are baked and lamb is prepared for Easter Sunday.  The Russian housewife bakes a yeast cake, known as Kulich, which she wraps in a spotless napkin to take to church for the priest's blessing.  (See above)

The custom of exchanging eggs goes back to pre-Christian times when eggs as a token of renewed life, were exchanged at the spring festivals.

Flower petals can be placed on damp eggs, covered with onion skin and kept in place with string or tape.  The boiled eggs will then bear the imprint of both petals and onion skins.  Add a few drops of vegetable dye or food colouring to the water you plan to boil your eggs in.  (Carmine, blue, green or yellow).  Narrow strips of masking tape can be stuck on to the eggs in geometric patterns. Peeling off the tapes afterwards will reveal white patterns on a coloured background.  Polish all boiled eggs with a little olive oil.

Simnel Cake is a tradition over here.  I always bake on for my mother-in-law and one for us.

The Simnel Cake was originally made by servant girls and given to their mothers for Mothering Sunday in March, but is now baked for Easter in Britain.  

Recipe for Simnel Cake

8ozs (225g) soft margarine or unsalted butter
8ozs (225g) light soft brown sugar
4 large eggs
8ozs (225g) self-raising flour
8ozs (225g) sultanas
4ozs (100g) currants
4ozs (100g) glace cherries, washed and quartered
2ozs (50g) candied peel
Grated rind of 2 lemons
2 level teaspoons mixed spice

For the filling and topping:  

1lb (450g) almond paste (marzipan)
About 2 tablespoons apricot jam
1 egg, beaten, to glaze
Crystallised primroses or small chocolate eggs


1     Grease and line the base and sides of an 8 inch (20cms) deep round cake tin with greased baking paper.

2     Measure all the cake ingredients into a large mixing bowl and beat well until thoroughly blended.  Place half of the mixture into the prepared tin and level the surface.

3     Take one-third of the almond paste and roll it out to a circle, the size of the tin and then place on top of the cake mixture.  Spoon the remaining cake mixture on top and level the surface.

4     Bake in the centre of the oven, preheated to 350 degrees F, 180 degrees C, Gas Mark 4, for three to three and a half hours, or until a warm skewer comes out clean from the centre and the cake is pale golden.  Should the cake top be getting brown and is not done, cover with a piece of foil.  Allow the cake to cool in the tin for about 30 mins before turning out and cooling on a wire rack.

5     When the cake is cool, brush the top with a little warmed apricot jam and roll out the remaining almond paste to fit the top.  Press firmly on the top and crimp the edges to decorate.  Mark a criss-cross pattern on the almond paste with a sharp knife.  

6     Form the remaining almond paste into eleven balls to represent the Apostles.  Brush the almond paste with the beaten egg and arrange the almond paste balls around the outside.  Brush the tops of the balls with beaten egg too, and then stand the cake carefully on a baking tray and place under a hot grill for just a few minutes (be careful, don't let it burn, the objective is to just brown the top very slightly).

10     The top of the cake can be decorated with crystallised flowers such as primroses, or little chocolate eggs, or even small golden Easter chicks.

These are my cakes...

Hot Cross Buns possibly stem from the small wheat cakes, eaten at the spring festivals in honour of Astarte, the Phoenician fertility goddess.  Her Anglo-Saxon counterpart was Eostre.  The cross on the buns, however, is of Christian origin.  

If anyone would like any further Easter recipes - just let me know!

Another very interesting custom, which I believe stretches right across Eastern Europe is the Easter Spanking!  (See, I left that until last!)

The first time Starman and I witnessed it in action we were speechless!  

It was many years ago when we visited my cousins in Poland for Easter.  We had no idea whatsoever about what was going to take place on Easter Saturday!

We were awoken quite early in the morning by my cousin's husband rushing into our bedroom with "willow switches" which he had soaked overnight in water!  He pulled back the covers (luckily it was far too cold to sleep in the nude as I would have died of shock otherwise and would not be here today!) and liberally swished my legs especially in the 'thigh' area. It stung, but naturally he didn't do it too hard, thank goodness!  

The tradition is that all wives get 'switched' to remind them to be good for the year to come! Hmmm......

It seems to have become extended these days to cover ALL women!  And lots of horrid little boys take advantage of the 'water' aspect of this, and sprinkle, in fact throw, water over any passing female!  Not nice I can assure you.

I wish you all a Very Happy Easter.  I am on 'restricted computer time' from now until otherwise decreed (yeah, I know, well there's nothing I can say in my defence at the moment, HOHisness has gone to his head!), so I doubt that I'll get back here till after Easter.

Eat lots of lovely Easter goodies and have a good time and a rest from work if you can.

Prayers and blessings to all of you!

And many hugs,


Thursday, 28 March 2013

Letting Go.....

When I wrote my last post, (and for a short time I really thought it was!) little could I imagine the changes about to come into force in the Starsong household.

But first, I want to thank everyone who has taken the time and trouble to email me with encouragement, blessings and advice.  You have been superb!  It's times like these when you think you are on something akin to a treadmill that you need someone else to say "Hey Ami, it's okay, we've all been there at some time or other.  Just go with the flow, and don't worry about it."

I did, of course, worry.  Who wouldn't?

I was the little bird who had stepped off the branch fluttering her wings for all she was worth, and those wings weren't strong enough to hold me up.  I needed Starman to dash out and grab me by the scruff of my feathery neck, and either pull me back, or preferably, to lift me up and fly with me.  

It wasn't happening, and I just watched as the ground got closer and closer and I knew I was going to be squidged!  

The strange thing about it was that I had been given the best bit of advice ever!  

"....from one control freak to another; do you see how much you try to control EVERYTHING in your interactions with your guy?  I have to laugh...bc I have been there.  Your "helpful" comments and suggestions and complaints are underneath ALL about controlling him, the spanking, the how, when, why.  You subtly convey little confidence in his ability to figure things out, to get it "right" to not do the wrong things.  You will have to take that risk and let him think for himself, try things, make his mistakes, if you want to empower him while you surrender your grip on that control."

I replied with "How do you ever learn to release this control?  As hard as I try the worse I get!  What if he doesn't bother?  What if he just lets things slide back to how they were before?"

The answer to that was "You do it by letting go of that grip....prying your fingers free, one finger at a time.."

Thank you Sara.  


It was a bit like a "Superman" moment.  You know the one - where Lois Lane lets go, and as she falls, frantic and screaming, Clarke Kent zips into a telephone kiosk, rapidly changes clothes, and then zooms out and catches her neatly, just a few feet above the ground!

It's been a pretty 's....y' week.  

Somehow, last Thursday's spanking didn't 'hit the spot'.  Even my nemesis, the snappy little spatula, did nothing to pull me out of the dark hole in which I'd buried myself.  

We went away for a long weekend early last Friday morning.  We went to France with a group of friends to celebrate the birthday of one of the husbands.  We didn't have to do any driving - another couple volunteered, and I have to admit that both of us nodded off several times in the back of the car.  It was wonderful not having to worry about maps or road signs for once.  

The two hotels we stayed in, on the Friday and Saturday nights, were like old friends revisited.  The rooms charming and comfortable, the meals superb and of course, of the non-fattening variety!  I kept my alcoholic consumption tightly under control and for the main dinner on Saturday night I only drank one gin and tonic, and one glass of white wine.  Even Starman was impressed by my restraint.

But by Sunday morning I was marching purposefully around the bedroom opening and closing drawers and looking in our overnight bags as if inspiration was going to leap out at me.

I even resorted to Willie's trick with the plastic coated coat-hanger.  But after the third shriek, which was enough to waken the dead and dislocate Starman's thigh as I leapt to my feet, we gave up on that idea.  (Willie is forever "mammoth hide" in our eyes!)

So I remained unspanked and rapidly coming apart at the seams.

The week trudged on until yesterday (Wednesday).  Starman said that he had never seen Bitch/troll in such an ascendant for a very long time! 

We sat eating breakfast and he asked me what I was doing all day.  When I hesitated he told me that he had a list of things.  My ears flattened against my head.  I hadn't had a list for more years than I can remember.  What sort of a list? I wondered.  

"I want to go to the hardware store (the one like a miniature warehouse) for some light bulbs to replace the ones in the kitchen that keep going pop; then we need to go to the Mill (right across the other side of the county!) to get some salt for the water softener."

I didn't want to go.  I had acres of laundry to sift through, plus ironing, plus I wanted to do some baking.  But no, I had to go thirty miles just to save a few pounds on salt!  And to cap it all, his mother called in and sat drinking coffee without a care in the world and all I did was fidget and wish we could get off. Eventually she mentioned the fact that I seemed on edge, and Starman told her that we were actually about to go out.  That, of course, made me feel guilty.  Which was exactly what he intended.

I never knew I could pout, but believe me, I am now a practised 'pouter' and can pout with the best of them!

I pouted all round the hardware store, even when we were discussing buying some new garden furniture.  I pouted my way back into the car, and I pouted all the way to the little town where the Mill is located.  Starman had never been there before and we didn't know where the Mill was.  We stopped in the square and there in front of us was a shop called Quilters' Haven.  I got out of the car so quickly that I almost forgot to undo my seatbelt.  I told Starman I would visit the shop and find out where the Mill was at the same time.

What a wonderful place.  I decided then and there I would make a quilt.  I bought all the basics like a cutting mat and a cutting wheel.  Then I bought a brilliant book called the Civil War Sampler that details how to make a quilt with lots of references to the American Civil War.  For the first time in a week I felt my spirits rise.  I didn't forget to ask the directions of the Mill.  We were able to go get our twenty sacks of salt - and even I had to admit that £3.00 off each bag was a substantial saving.

We travelled back across country and stopped in another little old town to have soup and toasted rolls for lunch.  It was very civilised.  We even chatted for the first time that day!

It was late afternoon by the time we arrived home.  I made a quick tea, straight from the freezer (fish and chips) and Starman made a blazing log fire in the woodburner.  

We settled down on a sofa each and he watched the news and I read the newpaper.  

I always go to bed earlier than him, but I did rouse from sleep enough to feel him snuggle up to my back and his arm wrap around me giving me a quick stroke and a cuddle before I drifted back into the land of nod.

I woke up early, about 6.30.  Starman was still asleep and I lay watching some white puffy clouds skate across a blue sky.  Wow!  That woke me up!  I lay there until about 7.00 and then as I heard Starman rousing I decided to get up and make him his tea.  I knew we had a builder coming for the day and that he would want to be up and showered by 8.00.  But when I returned with our drinks Starman was still lingering.  

"The builder's ill - he won't be coming till next week" I was informed.

He lay and looked at me.  I was sitting up propped against the headboard sipping my coffee.  My heart began to beat just a little faster.


"These friends of yours, who you chat to, they all do this do they?"

Now I could have been bolshy and asked him what he was referring to, but somehow I thought better of it.  To be frank I was astounded at his opening words.

"Yes they do.  Some of them have been living in this thing for years.  If you read the blogs you would know them."

"I don't want to read the blogs, but that doesn't mean I'm not interested."

"I can always print some out for you to read - if you want.  Some wives read them to their husbands" I offered.  He didn't say yes or no, but his next words nearly made me spit my coffee out all over the duvet.

"Do any of the blogs discuss what implements we husbands can use?"

I was choking so hard that I couldn't talk for a bit.  "They all use different ones.  What one person finds hard, another person finds easy to cope with.  It seems that you can get used to just one if it is used all the time."  My cheeks were going red, but I had waited a long time for a conversation like this.

"Oh."  Starman was thinking - always a bad sign.  "Well I think you and I had better have a little meeting hadn't we?  I think it's somewhat overdue, don't you?  You wanted to talk, so we're going to."

My breathing had increased to the 'getting breathless, nearly hyperventilating' pitch.  I wasn't sure what was happening.  I had purposely not mentioned a single thing this morning (really, I hadn't had time to, but I was determined to heed everyone's advice for once in my life) and now all of a sudden I felt things were moving rather quicker than I had anticipated.

"Get you kit off and go get a couple of implements from the drawer."  Starman  spoke quite firmly and determinedly.  "And don't bother with the spatula - it's obviously past its 'use by' date."

I skittered across the bedroom and grabbed the hairbrush and the leather paddle.

"It's a bit cold to take my nightie off" I told Starman, throwing them down on the bed next to him.  "Can't I keep it on for once?"

Help!  His look was enough.  I hastily removed it, glaring at him, nipples rapidly looking like chapel-hatpegs.

"Hmm, where do you want me?" I gasped.

Starman sat up in his usual position.  Well, he wasn't intending to move away from the warm covers.  Then he pulled me down across his lap so that I just managed not to hang over the edge.  I hastily pulled a pillow down and put my hands under it.  Something told me I might need to keep them out of the way.  

"Are you going to give me a warm up?" I croaked.

"I most certainly am" Starman replied.

So he did.  

My once chilly bottom gradually got hotter and hotter.  And then Starman began to talk.  You can call it lecture if you like - I was told to shut up and listen and only answer questions when asked.  I wasn't too sure about this.  I was still coming to terms with it all.

Starman asked me more questions about Dd than he has ever, ever asked.  I felt as if I was being cross examined in a court room.  At one point I tried to crane my head around to look at him.  But it was very difficult and he landed such a heck of a smack across my bottom cheeks that I asked him if he was using his fists.  He informed me that he was just using the flat of his hand.  All I can say is that his hand suddenly seems so much stronger than it ever used to!  

This went on for some time.  I can't remember everything we discussed.  I had edged forward somewhat and was staring at the side of the bed and the floorboards, my chin resting on the pillow.  I do remember that he was impressed that some people have been living this dynamic for years and that even they have the occasional hiccup, and I do remember seeing him nod sagely, out of the corner of my eye.  I also remember that he wanted to know in quite some detail about the 'different types of spanking'. 

He wasn't rubbing me in between spanks like he usually does.  I was okay, but only just able to cope with it.  The talking helped, because I focussed on that and not the spanks themselves.  

I didn't detect the move from hand to paddle.  But I felt it.  He wasn't playing around this time!  I knew I was beginning to kick.  It was reflex.  I moved forward a little more and he pulled me back and lifted my butt slightly and landed a few on the backs of my thighs, and then moved to my sit spots.  

The transition from paddle to hairbrush was one I will never forget.  He was the only one speaking now.  

"If I could have had this discussion with you yesterday I would have!  Even my mother noticed your attitude.  I was very angry with you Ami.  I can tell you here and now we are NOT going back to how things used to be.  I will add spanks on to the end of this maintenance thing EVERY time I think you need them."

He was punctuating his words with spanks.  I was very glad I had the pillow.  I behaved just like the women in some of these little spanking stories and yelled out how sorry I was several times.  I was crying very hard.

He stopped.

"Are you okay?" he asked me.

"Yes" I replied tearfully.

He began again.  (Where was the man who was nervous of hurting me and didn't like to see me cry?!!)

He continued to lecture.

I continued to sob.  He peppered my bottom all over and I held my hands under that pillow by sheer willpower.

He slowed, and came to a halt.  I wondered if it was over at last.

"I am going to give you four more" he informed me.  "The first two are for maintenance - to give you something to think about for the rest of the week."

If I had thought he was spanking hard before they were nothing compared to these two.  I think it is at this point you resign yourself to smothering in the pillow or waking the entire living world up to the fact that you are getting a spanking.

"And these two are for attitude" I was told.  "Don't you EVER act like this with me.  I HATED it!"

Oh dear!  

I just lay there.  He had to help me up.  I sat on his knees with my head tucked in his chest until I had calmed down.

I think my first thoughts and feelings were of such immense relief that I was almost light-headed.  Although the light-headedness could have come from my head ending up with my nose nearly on the floorboards at one point as I tried to escape the HH.

He then put me back over his lap.  I was really worried that there was going to be another session, but he simply rubbed my bottom gently.  In future I will remember to have some arnica next to the bed!  It was very soothing.  And one type of rub led to another.....

So I'm writing this still suffused with endorphins.  I still can't get my head around today's events.  I feel as if I have travelled 306 degrees in an instant.  I had just hoped for a tiny bit more.  Just a little longer.  Just a little harder.  That would have been fine.  But now?  Now I have a burgeoning HOH!  And he wants to know about more implements?!!!  What have I done?!!!

I know - I'll blame it all on Mick.  He once said in one of his posts, that SUDDENLY THE HUSBAND GETS IT!  And then there's no holding him back!  And then the wife wonders exactly what she has asked for..........

Well hugs everyone.  Me and my little blue tail are signing off for today.  But somehow, knowing bad, bad Ami, I suspect there will be many more adventures ahead.

PS  Aha Lillie!  Is this divine retribution?!  Just because of Sean Connery?!  (I told Starman about your one or two "incidents" when you got spanked in the beginning - he was most impressed with Ian!  I should have kept it all to myself!  I've let loose a tiger!

Thursday, 21 March 2013

Another Meaning for the Four Ds!

I'm feeling down, despondent, disillusioned and desperate.

It has not been a good week.  I wish I could help myself, could clamber up out of this pothole big enough to swallow a car whole without even burping, but at the moment I just can't seem to gather up enough strength or willpower to do so.

In another week British Summer Time kicks in and the clocks will be put forward by an hour.  Well, that's a laugh to begin with.  The signs of Spring are so very far and few between here.  In fact, we have yet more severe weather moving in today across the with high winds and blizzards set to cause havoc to most of the country.  Where I live there is nothing (apart from Bas) between me and Siberia.  When that wind begins to blow across the North Sea it is like living in Arctic conditions!  (Not that I ever have, but I am surmising.)  This morning, the skies were bright blue at 7.30 am, but within an hour and a half had returned to the same maddening shade of grey they seem to have been the whole of the winter.  Even the daffodils are refusing to flower!  I so crave some sunshine and warmth...

Another reason for my 'downness' is that next week I break up for the Easter holidays; and therefore I need to get my letter of resignation handed in.  We are obliged to give a full term's notice, so the 'lead balloon' is about to fall.  I feel ambivalent about it.  Whilst I feel ready for retirement; for time to spend with Starman; for time to spend visiting my small grandson and being able to help out with the impending new arrival; for time to concentrate on hobbies and fitness - I can't help the strange sensation of hurtling over the edge of a cliff and not being able to see the ground beneath.  My friends, most of them ex-teachers, are virtually all retired, and loving it.  Always whizzing around, taking lots of low-peak holidays, going to shows and attending exhibitions.  They all say they have never been busier.  Yet I'm still trying to skid to a halt before I get to the edge - still trying to take a quick look down before my feet are walking on air.  

The despondent, disillusioned and desperate all reflect how I am feeling towards TTWD.  It is simple.  It comes from having had a s****y week.  Bitch/troll is alive and kicking and patrolling the corridors of power.  She is like an aircraft in a 'holding' position, going round and round hour upon hour.  I've tried unsuccessfully to force her back to the abyss where she belongs, but this time she doesn't seem to want to go.  She's turned into the type of dragon who eats little boys for breakfast, and then comes back and eats big boys for lunch.  Her eyes are now set on dinner, and any men foolish enough to be caught in her vicinity will suffer the consequences.  

I am tired of being good.  I am very nearly worn to a frazzle with all this talk of submission doing the rounds and for two pins I would walk away from everything and take a slow boat to China!

But there is one thing that is holding me back.  

That one thing is a whole heap of good advice and encouragement I received this week from a good friend here in blogland who has been there, seen it, done it, and bought about a fifty teeshirts as a result, and yet is still discovering nuances in the ripple effect.  She constantly assures me that everything I feel, say and do, are completely normal, and that I haven't totally lost my marbles and become a raving lunatic wearing a witch's hat, and living in a cellar stirring a bubbling cauldron.

This week I've felt as if I was in free fall, just wandering around in no-man's land, or speeding in a fast car around and around an intricate cloverleaf of flyovers and underpasses bisecting an eight-lane motorway.  

People talk about 'distancing' and until now I've never really understood the intricacies of it.  But this week I seem to have lived in my head more than anywhere else.  Which is strange and uncomfortable, because this is the first time it's happened since all my tears and trauma way back in December when we first began.  I've become so used to being able to communicate with Starman, that these lengthening silences, instigated by no-one but me, have begun to take their toll on our day to day existence.

I can track them back to 5 am on Monday morning, when I had to be up early and away to a conference on special educational needs.  It was a beautiful day outside and I missed it!  I was cooped up in a large sports hall listening to new strategies and then participating in copious exercises which would purportedly enlighten us all.  The sun had long gone by the time I made my way homewards.  The rest of my week has consisted of writing innumerable end of term student reports, setting new targets, and running end of term examinations.  

Starman tried his best to lift my gloom.  He knew how tired I was by Tuesday evening, and decided we would go out for dinner.  Nothing fancy, so I was able to wear my jeans, but to a place that serves large and juicy steaks together with a bottle of Sauvignon blanc. Starman loves a good steak!  But you  know, as I sat across the table from him, I could hardly think of anything to talk about.  It was horrible.  It was one of the most silent meals we have ever eaten together.  And instead of being appreciative, and thanking him, all I did was mutter that I had thought that we were supposed to have a 'date' night once a week, and that this was the first for about two months.

I didn't speak in the car on the way home, and when we got home and he switched on the TV, all I did was grumble about his choice of programme, and that I never got to choose any more.

Wednesday wasn't much of an improvement on Tuesday.

So.... this morning.  

Starman woke up first and disappeared downstairs to make tea and coffee.  It used to be my job, and I lay in bed with my eyes closed listening to him clank his way around the kitchen, which is beneath our bedroom.  When he arrived back upstairs he placed my coffee mug on my bedside table and walked around and got back in his side.  He sat there nursing his tea and I just curled up on my side with my back to him and my eyes still shut.  

Wisely he didn't say anything.  That was the prod my conscience needed to make me sit up.  I pushed myself upwards and leant back against the headboard, reaching for my coffee.  I felt awful.  I am beginning to wonder how often these scenarios will repeat!  

"So then" he said looking me up and down, "Spanky Thursday!" And he grinned.

I hate it when he does that because it makes me grin back and then I feel even more guilty.

"I don't think you are taking this seriously" I admonished him.  "You're like a record on repeat".

"Oh believe me, I am taking it seriously" he informed me.  

"No you're not" I replied.  "When we started this, you were as confused as hell, but you at least promised to give it a try.  And now, nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?  I thought you enjoyed hanky panky spanky!  I even took you out for dinner this week."

"Big deal" I muttered under my breath, angrily.

"And you hardly said two words to me all evening" Starman went on ignoring my scornful tone.  "You've been your old nasty self to me all week, and you didn't thing I'd noticed?  I noticed all right.  I thought you were meant to be working on that attitude of yours."

"I am.  At least I'm trying.  But you are back to to doing nothing.  "You come in from the office, put the TV on and watch all your 'Cop or Car' programmes, and I have to sit around and put up with it."

"No you don't.  You never tell me if you want to watch something different.  You always go and sit in front of your computer for hours and when you eventually join me you either read your kindle or fall asleep."  By now Starman was getting an edge to his voice.

But so was I.

"The only reason I do that is because I don't want to watch what you want to watch.  And if I say I want to watch 'The Walking Dead' or 'Vampire Diaries' you rant at me and go and watch your stuff in the kitchen and make me feel guilty."

"Well a man can't watch all that rubbish" Starman grumped.  "You like NCIS don't you?"

"Yes, but not every night!" I thought I was on a roll.  "You even nod off and I can't get the gadget without waking you because you are holding it with a grip of death!"

"But aren't the decisions down to me?  Don't I get to cast the final vote?  And don't you have to fall into line?"

"Well not like this!  We discuss things first, and I get to put across my point of view, and then you get to make the final decision."

Starman grinned again.  "Oh, so you are making the rules now are you?  So you are telling me that I get to make the decisions, but only if you agree with them, are you?"

I fidgeted.  "It's not like that."

"Oh I think it is Ami.  I think that's just how it is."

"Well, I'm sorry if that's what you think.  If you were nicer and took more of an interest, then perhaps I wouldn't be so 'nasty' as you put it.  Perhaps if you took and interest, you would stop me from being nasty before I started.  Perhaps you should have taken more interest a little earlier."

How is it that we cross the line fully knowing that we are crossing it?

I have heard quite a lot about "poking the bear" this week, and have sworn never to do it.  Ha!  I can tell you all here and now, I have the spikiest stick to poke bears with that you have ever seen!  Bring on the biggest grizzly and let me at him!

Starman put his hand out and patted my knee under the duvet.  "If number one son hadn't been in the kitchen when we got home the other night, you would have known exactly how much interest I could have taken in you."  His voice had dropped what seemed like an octave.  "And you needn't concern yourself that I don't care or have forgotten just how you have been behaving. I wasn't able to rectify the situation then, but believe me I have plenty of time to do so now.  Get your kit off and go and get the spatula!"

My head was telling me this wasn't how it was meant to be.  Get your kit off indeed!

Starman glared at me.  It's been so cold I've taken to wearing a nightie that resembles a long teeshirt.  I pulled it off and threw it down on the foot of the bed.  As I opened the drawer to remove the spatula, I narrowed my eyes.  The HH was right in front of me.  I sniffed loudly and ignored it, grabbing the spatula and returning across the room.  Starman hadn't moved an inch.  

"You're not even in position" I waved the spatula around.  "Tell you what, I'll lie down next to you for a change."

"See!  You're telling me what to do again!"  He moved quickly into the middle of the bed and propped a pillow behind him.  "Come on, hurry up" he commanded.

I nearly saluted.  Now that would have been a mistake!

I crawled over his lap and he started to knead my buttocks.  Do all HOHs do that?!  

"That's not warming me up" I complained.  I can be bolshier than any Bolshevic you like to name!

He started out patting my behind so gently I thought I might take a nap.  

"You could talk to me" I mentioned to him.  But I've mentioned it to him before and he's never said much.  In fact, he made a joke about standing at a bus stop, and as he makes this joke nearly every time it has worn a little thin.

The spanks were gradually getting harder, but they still felt good.  Soothing, relaxing...


My legs bent at the knees, my heels kicking backwards towards my bottom.

"There.  That woke you up" Starman observed.

I had gotten so relaxed that I was starting to slide forwards and downwards towards the floor.  He hauled me back into position.  It was so daft that we both giggled.

"See" I said.  "You aren't serious even now."

"I know" he conceded ruefully.  "My anger has long since gone since Tuesday night."

"Well," I told him, "surely that's a good thing.  From my perspective anyway.  Everything I've read says the HOH must never spank in anger.  He must always wait awhile and cool down first."

"Yes, well, two days waiting has certainly cooled me down."  

He was still spanking, and giving one or two little rubbing motions in between.  But at least we were talking, if only to make some rather stupid observations.

"You know.  I think you need to get over this fear of upsetting me.  It's times like this that I really need a re-set and to have a few tears is a good thing.  In fact, by not allowing me to cry you are being unkind.  I need to get rid of all my stress."

Starman was continuing to spank and I noticed one or two landing on my sit spots.  I'm quite sure that his hand has toughened up over the last four months.

"Stress!" he chortled.  "What stress?!  The only stress you get is getting up at 5.30 two mornings a week!  Humph!  Stress indeed!"

He knew darn well that this is the first year I have ever only worked two days.  And we agreed that I would do this as a run up to retirement.  My eyes were beginning to whirl again.

The spanking changed subtly.  He was using the spatula and it burned.  I wriggled a bit.  He seemed to be spanking up to the very tops of my buttocks.  

"You're not hitting too high are you?" I asked anxiously.

"No. You needn't worry.  It's nowhere near your tailbone.  Getting nice and hot though."

He kept on, spanking round in circles and up and down.  After the initial burn it didn't seem too bad.  Although the kicking was somewhat automatic, I wasn't doing much 'ouching' and I couldn't even manage to squeeze out a single tear.  Hopeless.

He was really swinging now and the splats reverberated around the room.  I just lay calmly and let my mind explore the feeling.  I can't say I loved it, but I didn't hate it either.  It simply wasn't doing anything.  Hitting the spot, if you like.

At last I felt him slow down.  

"I can't do this any more" he sounded exhausted.  "My arm aches.  I think you are getting to used to it."  There was a tinge of regret in his voice.

I felt his fingers wander elsewhere.  

"I think we'll have to pension the spatula off."  There was resignation now.  "Maybe I warmed you up too much.  Never mind.  We'll use something else next time, something you aren't used to.  Just remember that when you decide to be nasty to me again."

I really couldn't concentrate any more due to his fingers.  So I got up and straddled his lap and put my head on his shoulder.  

"I will remember" I told him.  "But I can't promise anything.  I'll try, of course.  But I have to tell you that I still feel unsettled somehow.  I really don't know what to suggest."

"Well my arm's too tired to continue.  You've worn me out.  We'll think of a different strategy next time."

He pulled me down and turned me on my front running a hand over my bottom.  "I can't believe you can't feel this.  It's redder than it's ever been."

His hand wandered again and soon the spanking was completely forgotten.

So here I am still in no man's land, yet with a very bruised butt.  Yet again.  I wonder what obstacles the road we are travelling will throw up at me, at us, by this time next week.  Probably I shall be too done in from jousting with the bitch/troll to care.

Have a good weekend everyone!  Bitch/troll signing off...

Friday, 15 March 2013

A Thank You Letter to My Husband

There is a lot of talk of submission doing its round of the blogs at the present time.  It's a word I shy away from, have mixed feelings about.  So I wanted to share with you a letter I wrote to Starman a few weeks ago.  

It's really just a simple thank you letter.  There are several letters from wives asking their husbands to join them in TTWD.  But it seemed to me that I should tell my husband what it meant to me that he had been willing to have a go at it.  To thank him for always being there for me and never letting me down.

My darling heart,

You've never once asked me to do this, but I need to write you a letter.  

It's a letter not just about my needs, but how you are fulfilling those needs.  It's about how I gave you something complicated, and you have made it into something easy.

We were on the brink weren't we?  We were two strangers sharing the same place in time.  We knew we could get by without each other, but we didn't want to take that final step.

I'm so glad we didn't; because I don't want to just get by, to make do with a half-hearted relationship.  I don't want any other.  I want you.

Does this make sense to you?  Do you understand if I express my needs in this way?  All I know is, that you took all my craziness and my fears, all my self doubts, and you made me whole again.  You made me, ME again.  You made us, US again.

I am smiling, because I always wanted a dominant man.  You used to be one you know, until I chipped away at it until it had all but disappeared.  Surely that's easy enough?  But no, it's not so easy at all.

You know I'm not the kneeling on the floor type of woman.  No collars for me! I'm a kicking, screaming, yelling, throwing type.  Not very pretty, but sometimes that is exactly who I am.  Eyes whirling with fire like your average dragon.  Bitch/troll from the abyss.  Sometimes that's who I need to be.  I need to push the boundaries, and fight.  Fight until I am overpowered.  Fight until I am made to submit.

I know, my love, that it isn't easy for you.  I know you are still coming to terms with what we do.  I know that the very thought of it makes you feel mean and cruel, and that you hate it if I cry.  But know this - I know you would never harm me.  I know that you wouldn't be doing this, if deep down, you didn't believe it was something that I needed, that was necessary.  You wouldn't be doing this, unless it was something you knew I wanted too.

With us submission is rarely physical.  Your quiet, measured voice can stop me dead in my tracks.  A warning glance and I lower my eyes.  A raised eyebrow and I catch my breath.

You have a way of reaching out to me and folding me close - without even touching me.  My heart is open to yours, and I feel your strength warming me through like summer heat.

You make me feel safe.  You give me such a strong sense of security; emotionally as well as physically.  I look around and catch you watching me and I know you would never ever let me fall.  Perhaps it's this feeling that you are in control that lets me relax and know I am under that control.  I don't know, because you never make a big deal out of it.  The ties that bind me to you are as fine as gossamer, yet as strong as titanium.  You calm my fears, I am safe.

You know I've found it difficult giving up a part of my independence and learning to trust your decisions, but I would be foolish if I didn't tell you that I  am enjoying the feeling of falling back into the safety net you hold out for me.  I not only need your shelter, I want and crave it.  The strength I derive from you is as necessary to me as oxygen.

Thank you for the touch of your hand on my back when I am over your lap.  You were so shocked when I first brought this to you.  You were so uncertain, so unsure, so worried when I asked you to spank me that first time.  You wondered why I would ask such a thing.

I suppose I don't really have a good answer.  It was just something that I knew I needed.  Deep down in my heart.  It was something that I knew we both needed.

Oh yes, my heart, it turns me on.  I cannot lie about that.  But why it turns me on I cannot say.  That you have loved me enough to do this, yes perhaps, but there is more to it than that.  It's in the way you hold me, whisper to me, comfort me.  You shake out the creases in my life, and smooth me with your loving hand.  Yes, it hurts, but it is a good hurt.  It burns, but it is a good burn.  I trust you, you never give me more than I can cope with.  You take my trust and double it.  You take the bits of me that I have broken off, and you put me back together again.  You enforce your love with a spanking that nurtures me and enriches both our lives.  

I do not like the pain.  Yes, I know it is meant to hurt.  But it is the emotive quality of that pain.  The transference of love that comes with the pain.  I want it yet I do not want it.  But I need it.  I need to feel not only the transference of love, but the transference of control.  I  need you to take my control and make it yours.

When I feel your hand on my back holding me in position, I know you want me to feel that control.  You want me to feel vulnerable.  You want there to be an edge to the spanking that causes me to feel just a little afraid.  Not of you, but of my ability to accept that control.  I love it because it reminds me that you are in charge, and I am not, and I hope you will take care of me this way forever.

I am not a child.  I know right from wrong.  I am a responsible person in my own right.  So why should I need this?  Why should I feel this overwhelming need for discipline in my life?  Does it go back to security?  Does it go back to sex?  Perhaps it does.  The emotions that come after the spanking seem to transcend any emotions ever felt before.  Your love-making is so tender I feel I could dissolve.

I'm not a child, but I'm not perfect either.  I often don't look after myself very well - eat the wrong things, take minimal exercise, don't get enough sleep.  Sometimes I forget to take my mobile phone with me, or I forget to tell you if I am going out, and I certainly drive too fast.

So do I have an inner need for discipline?  Or is it just the way I am?  Perhaps the child inside me longs for boundaries and the enforcing of those boundaries.  Perhaps that same child is the one who is bratty and unreasonable at times.  I'm not sure, but I can't help the way I am.

I just know I need the love you give me.  The love you give me unconditionally.  I love the security, safety, strong hands and those sturdy boundaries you place around me.  I also need the consistency and caring I feel from you each week as reinforcement of this love, even though it is sometimes hard to accept.

I want to thank you for cherishing me in this way, for taking the time to place my needs before yours, even though you find it difficult at times.  I want to tell you how good you are at it all, and how you have grown back into the dominant man you once were, and how I know you will never let me down.  

My heart reaches out to your heart my darling husband, and I thank you more than you will ever know for not giving up on me, on us.

Your Ami

Saturday, 9 March 2013

Saturday Snippets (7)

I can't believe a whole week of March has already gone.  So what can I look forward to this month?

     "Windy days and dancing daffodils.

     Finally being able to get out into the vegetable patch and plant potatoes.

     The clocks changing so we can get back to lighter evenings.

     Spring flowers brightening the landscape after the winter gloom.

     Longer days and leaping lambs.

     Being able to open the windows in the barn and having a big spring clean."

Life around here is much the same.  Starman still has the cold of the century. The spanking must have sapped his energy because he proceeded to go rapidly downhill and spent the rest of the day, plus all of yesterday, in bed!  He managed to get up and stagger downstairs for meals and high dosage vitamin C, but then he staggered back up and has been lying in state with every remote control imaginable within reach, plus his tablet, phone, glass of water, ipod, kindle.... the list is endless!

However - we are delighted to tell you all that the bone scan was completely clear, and he just heard this week that he has been accepted on to the prostate cancer trials at the Royal Marsden in London, and that due to its success this trial has been extended!  Although we are trying to carry on with life in a normal way, this sort of thing does tend to linger at the back of your mind, so this has made the outlook a lot more positive for us.

And he got up and showered as normal today, ate his breakfast eggs on toast, and has even ventured briefly outside (got rained on) and then rushed back in to the comfort of the fire and sofa!

Saturday Joke  (sorry, it's a bit rude!)

Paddy and Colleen were making passionate love in Paddy's mini van when suddenly Colleen, being a bit on the kinky side, yells out "Oh big boy, whip me, whip me!"

Paddy, not wanting to pass up this unique opportunity, obviously did not have any whips on hand, but in a flash of inspiration, he opens the window, snaps the antenna off his van and proceeds to whip Colleen until they both collapse in ecstasy.

About a week later Colleen notices that the marks left by the whipping are starting to fester a bit, so she goes to the doctor.  The doctor takes one look at the wounds and asks, "Did you get these marks having sex?"

Colleen, a little embarrassed that she has slept with Paddy (let alone that she allowed the kinky boy to whip her) eventually admits that, yes, she did.

Nodding his head knowingly, the doctor exclaims, "I thought so, because in all my years as a doctor, you've got the worst case of van aerial disease that I've ever seen."

Outside this is what it is doing:

Raining, raining and more raining.  Apparently it's going to snow later this afternoon, and already some of the raindrops resemble sleet.  Such excitement!  I would really prefer my afternoon to be like this:

I love getting feedback about my recipes and I promised another showstopper this week.  This torte is extremely rich and I would strongly advise 'special occasions only' and just small slices.  (Are you listening HOHs!  Pay attention!  Small slices means small slices!)

The Famous Chocolate Truffle Torte  (Serves 10)

450g dark chocolate (70-75% cocoa solids)
5 tbspns liquid glucose
5 tbspns  dark rum
570ml double cream, at room temperature
75g amaretti biscuits, crushed finely with a rolling pin

To serve:  

cocoa powder
chilled pouring cream
some extra amaretti biscuits

A 23cm cake tin, lined with a circle of baking parchment and the base and sides lightly brushed with groundnut oil.

1  Start off by sprinkling the crushed biscuits all over the base of the tin.  Next break the chocolate into sections and put them in a heat proof bowl together with the liquid glucose and the rum.  Sit over a saucepan containing 5cms of barely simmering water, without the bowl touching the water - it will take between 5 and 10 minutes to become melted, smooth and glossy.  Stir, then take off the heat, and leave the mixture to cool for 5 minutes or so, until it feels just warm.

2  Now, in a separate bowl, beat the cream to the 'floppy' stage.  Fold half into the chocolate mixture, and then fold that mixture into the rest of the cream.  When it is smoothly blended, spoon it into the prepared tin.  Tap the tin gently to even the mixture out, cover with clingfilm and chill overnight.

3  Just before serving, run a palette knife round the edge to loosen the torte, then give it a good shake, and turn the whole thing out on to a serving plate (don't be nervous about this - it's very well behaved).  To serve, dust the surface with sifted cocoa powder and a few amaretti biscuits and, if you like, mark the top into serving sections.  Have some chilled pouring cream to go with it, if you have any, a couple of tablespoons of amaretti liqueur will make a wonderful addition to the cream.

NOTE  The torte does freeze well, but since you can also make it a couple of days in advance, this doesn't really seem necessary.

March, being Question and Answer month, if anyone has any questions to ask me, please ask them in the comments section below, or send me an email to:

I'll do my best to answer them, but you just might get some funny answers!

I did warn you!  

And if one of your questions is "Have you ever been skinny dipping?"  Well, it's for me to know and you to wonder about!  (LOL!)