Tuesday, 21 April 2015


Since we started TTWD, I have often read posts where the wife did something really stupid, and then covered it up. She would inevitably end up being upturned and well spanked. 

I would think to myself How on earth could she do something so stupid? If that was me, I would immediately come clean to Dan or I wouldn't do such a thing in the first place. After all, I am a grown woman. Of a certain age. I simply wouldn't act that way.

As Cat would say "Good gravy woman!"

I even think that somewhere in the Bible, might be Proverbs, there is something about a man digging a pit, and then falling into the pit he dug. 

I can tell you. It applies to woman as well.

I am really finding this quite hard to write. I know it is going to take me more than one day to formulate a post about the pit I just fell into.

I was quite pleased with my last post. For the first time ever (EVER!!!) I got Dan to read it. He only made two comments. One was that he thought I wrote just the same way I speak, and the other was that he was a bit astounded that I put pictures of semi naked women on my posts. Apart from that, he was quite happy with it, but has declined my invitation to read all my posts. Still, a small milestone has been reached. (He even read everyone's comments!)

The other evening I was on the phone to a friend "across the pond" and we were talking about loads of different things. The subject of Outlander came up and she explained how I could "watch" the spanking scene as someone had posted the video.

I had heard various reactions to it on the blogs, and from my own daughter, but was anxious to watch it myself. As it happened, I was only able to watch it on a very small screen and without sound, so frankly I was not amused, as I needed to hear their discussion and also hear the reaction of the other men present.

I have read the scene several times in the book and haven't yet made up my mind about whether she should have been spanked or not. Sometimes I think she should, and then I become contrary and side entirely with her and would've bitten not only Jamie's wrist, but several other bits of him as well. 

However, I digress.

Something happened on Friday morning that has led to a spanking of epic proportions in my own household. 

Had I read about it on someone else's blog, I would have thought the woman incredibly stupid. So I don't mind one bit if you want to accuse me of stupidity. I accuse myself of stupidity!!! And before you start to worry - I didn't fall into a deep, fast-flowing stream, nearly drown, get hooked out by the baddie, and then nearly get raped by him. My fall from grace was entirely different, but one which perhaps one or two of you may be more familiar with.

On Friday morning I had a letter from my bank.

It contained my monthly bank statement. I often don't even bother to look at these pieces of paper any more. After all, I no longer have a salary going in, am not liable for taxation, and rarely spend a great deal on myself. (Note the 'rarely' here.)

However, something caught my eye. I looked again. All my worst fears were realised. I was overdrawn. Terribly, incredibly overdrawn. Mammothly!

I checked through my statement from top to bottom, and flinging pieces of paper in the air burrowed through the heap on my desk till I located the previous statement. Horrors!

I had been overdrawn last month too.

I remember screwing my eyes up against the sun and trying to see my bank balance in one of those stupid hole in the wall machines. Unfortunately for me, what I had thought to be a healthy bank balance, must have had a little minus sign in front of it. Certainly my previous bank balance, and now my latest bank balance showed those little minus signs all the way through.

I sat with my heart racing. This hasn't happened to me since I was about 30 and my sister in law took me on a very dangerous shopping trip. I remember only too well how incandescent with rage Dan became when I asked him to bail me out, and how we had an argument of epic proportions that raged on for nearly a week. 

I felt sick just thinking about it all. What on earth was I going to do? Dan would go ballistic.

I sat and had a good cry and then decided that I would need to think about the situation for a day or two. Little did I realise what a horrible night I would have. I just tossed and turned and wept silent guilty tears all night. By morning I was completely wrung out. I couldn't understand why I was feeling like this.

I badly wanted to sit and tell Dan all about it, behave in a reasonable fashion, ask him to bail me out, and give him a firm assurance that I would repay him as soon as I could. But I was scared of his reaction. Dan does not suffer fools gladly

Maybe you think Dan is an old skinflint. (I believe his daughter has called him this on occasion, but only when he has refused to indulge her unnecessarily.) Alas, Dan is the furthest from a skinflint you could want. He has been generous with me all our married life. I suppose, thinking about it, he has spoilt me rotten. Apart from a few things, my money has been my own to do with as I wished. I suppose I simply paid for the icing on the cake which enhanced both our lives and gave us extras like short holidays to interesting places etc. And now here was I, only eighteen months into retirement, and very much overdrawn on my personal account.

Due to not having slept, I was up at the crack of dawn. I crept downstairs leaving Dan snoring softly with a happy, content look on his face. I knew that wouldn't be there much longer. He was going to be so angry with me.

I arrived back upstairs and drew back the curtains on a beautiful sunny morning. The squirrels were pulling my bird feeder apart for the millionth time, the moorhens were fighting a duel on the lawn, and the swallows had arrived and were soaring overhead. Idyllic.

I had reached the stage where I felt disorientated and dizzy with anxiety. When we chatted as we drank our morning drinks, I was only half listening to what Dan was talking about. I felt so miserable. When I had finished my coffee I almost lay back down and curled up again.

But I knew in my heart what I had to do.

I got up and walked across to the drawer where we keep our things. Even then, I was too much of a coward to select anything other than the rose paddle. I brought it back and handed it to Dan.

"But I only spanked you the other day."

This is Dan all over. He just cannot come to terms with the fact that he is allowed to spank me around the clock if he wants to. He is so careful. I do love him for it, but when I read how many times some of you get spanked, there is a little envy in me.

I heaped up some pillows and lay over them but right next to Dan, so he had easy access. I still hadn't said anything to him. My throat seized up and I just couldn't. I think I told him I needed a little extra. I really can't remember. Luckily he didn't need too much urging, and started to spank with his hand.

"You do seem a bit tense" he remarked, spanking away. He was using both hands at the time. Maybe access was too easy! His hands are hard and capable, and these days he can go for ages without them feeling the burn. My bottom, however, does feel the burn.

Then I felt the paddle come down on my right cheek fairly hard. I burst into tears. 

Once those flood gates were opened, I couldn't stop. I just got louder and louder.

I will give Dan his due; he didn't waver a single bit. Bless him, he thought he was doing me good. 

"Let it all come out" he said. "Let it all come out." 

(Golly, I never thought he would ever say anything like that. Perhaps there is hope for us yet.)

The spanking got harder and harder. I tried not to kick. I deserved it so badly. Dan eased off and stroked my back for a bit. He was beginning to get a little nervous. He started up again and gave me about ten more, very hard, then stopped. He told me afterwards that he was getting an inkling that things weren't right.

I went into sobbing mode and couldn't have stopped if world war three broke out. Dan went from nervous to alarmed. His stroking became full scale rubbing and massaging. 

"You don't want more, surely? I've bruised you; I don't want to damage you."

I howled even louder.

"You don't know what I'm crying about" I managed to get out between trying not to choke to death.

So the whole miserable story came out, bit by horrid bit. Dan listened and didn't interrupt apart from to ask me "How much?" I could feel him gulp as I told him.

Now this is where perhaps you think he should have grabbed me over his knee and sallied forth once more with the paddle? This is where, surely, a wife should receive a barn burner? This is where she gets the lecture to end all lectures? Where she is told how disappointed her husband is in her?

Not a bit of it.

"I am so glad you didn't try to hide this from me; that you told me all about it," Dan said. "I'm not very pleased with you, but we can look at your bank statements together and I can help you sort it all out. You're just going to have to be extra careful for a couple of months and discuss any expenditure with me first. It's not the end of the world." I could hear pride and an HOHiness that I had not heard previously in his voice.

I think I howled even harder when he said all this.

Eventually I got up and washed my face, blew my nose and brushed my hair and sat back in bed. We discussed the situation a bit more, then I was well cuddled and loved. I went down and cooked a traditional full English breakfast.

It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders, although I sat on a cushion and couldn't even bear to wear knickers till after midday.

But with this spanking came a very real understanding of the word Honesty. I now know why it is such an important part of Dd. Honesty is a key element in a strong and lasting marriage. Deception whittles away at the mortar and and can cause the foundations to crumble. 

I had thought Dan would be furious with me and although he wasn't exactly happy, he chose to keep calm and to discuss how, together, we can ensure this won't happen again. He understood I was giving him that paddle for a reason, but at the time he didn't know what that reason was. I wonder if that was why the spanks were so much harder than usual? Sort of in anticipation? It has been a salutary lesson to me. I shan't forget any of it in a hurry.

The way we do TTWD, works for us. When we started out, I had no idea whatsoever where it would lead us. All I can say, is that it keeps getting better and better.

Monday, 13 April 2015

How Compliant are You?

Notice I didn't use the word submissive

But I suppose that's what I really mean. I've thought about it a lot over this past week. More than a week in fact.

Somehow over the past couple of weeks our feet don't seem to have touched the ground. We have been racing around from one place to another, or had the house full of people. 

It's been a couple of weeks when I began to think at one point that Dan was fed up with my company, because he was never around. Or didn't seem to be. 

He is very involved with helping to organise a fund-raising cycle ride in June in aid of prostate cancer; plus his voluntary work visiting the homes of the elderly and vulnerable, fitting smoke alarms and carbon monoxide detectors; plus going to support our home team (football - that's soccer to some of you) who have had an unpredictable season; plus he's even been away working for one or two days which have necessitated overnight stays.

There has been no time to even think about spanking. It has just been too full on. A typical example of life getting in the way. Maybe some people can manage to squeeze it in here and there, but with Dan, it seems a major impossibility, and always ends up getting deferred indefinitely. It seems he has to be in the mood for it.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I no longer ask for spankings, nor do I purposely sulk and sigh and flounce about trying to provoke a fight. I just stay hopeful; and mostly that eventually seems to work.

But I have noticed Dan can be very cunning. His 'don't you dare do that'/'not another word'/'don't even think it' signals are getting more practised. In times of spanking scarcity, these signals are definitely more prolific.

The strange thing is that, on the whole, I seem to acknowledge them, and they do tend to halt me in my tracks.

So, is this submissive? Surely it's just common sense?

Now - I know that many of you own up to the fact that you didn't promise to "obey" when you got married. Why is this?

It's something I've thought about time and again over the years - nearly 38 now.

I didn't want to say those words. After all, the Princess Royal had just got married, and she didn't say them! So why should I?

Well, I promised to obey because our priest refused to marry us otherwise, and because Dan gave me a very black look, which said "Obey or else". I can remember it clear as day.

"Why should I?" I asked the both of them. (I was feeling very heated and press-ganged at the time.)

"Because," the priest explained, "he will literally give his life for you should it be necessary. He will be there by your side to protect you from anything and everything the world and the years to come, throw at you. He will love you and guide you and lead you, all the years of your lives."

I can remember Dan nodding in puzzled agreement, but thinking it strange that the priest should be putting him on a silver steed, fitting him with shining armour and handing him a lance. It made him feel like a dog with two tails because it appealed to his natural sense of maleness

So I stood there in front of the congregation and spoke those words "I obey" in spite of not really thinking about what I had actually agreed to, and looking back, I find it quite amazing that such a feisty, argumentative little so and so such as me, would acquiesce in such a way. (I did throw the occasional saucepan at Dan's head those first few years, but that's another story!).

To start with we both worked full time, then when the children came along I continued to work part time. We always had our specific tasks in our household, that we kept to. 

Dan sorted the finances, kept the septic tank from blocking up, mowed lawns and kept the outside in good order. He looked after the cars in all aspects from fuel to insurance. He was brilliant at paddock maintenance. (He still does all these things!)

I looked after the inside and all that entailed, from cooking and laundry to interior design, decorating and being a mother with all that entailed. (I still do all these things, but being a mother is somewhat different in this day and age, and I've added being a grandmother to the list long since.)

Dan would be away for long periods at a time, sometimes flying back from one destination to be gone to another within 24 hours. I had horses, dogs, cats, hens and boisterous children. And a part time teaching job. I was busy to the point of exhaustion. But somehow the years flew.

I got used to Dan drawing up a daily list of things for me to do. I got used to him asking or phoning me and ask me to do little extras such as banking or picking up his dry cleaning. I never questioned when he would invite business colleagues for dinner, or meetings in his office. 

I just got on with it all.

Strangely, it wasn't until our children were in their late teens, and beginning to fly the nest, such as away at college, that things started to go a little awry for us. 

I am a strong, independent woman. I believe in strong independent women. Our ancestors fought for it. They chained themselves to railings to achieve it, went on rallies and carried placards. 

I salute them for it. I wouldn't have it any other way. One of my heroines is Elizabeth Garratt Anderson, who not only had a family, but who became one of the very first female doctors - and managed to find time to march as a suffragette! (We have a whole hospital wing named after her.)

But somehow, along the way, something got lost.

In our fight for female suffrage, we forgot to lean on the ones we love the most. Instead of seeking their strength and assistance, we fought them, we derided them, we sneered at them. No door opening for us. No helping us on with our coats, or into our cars. If what we wanted was equality, then we could have it. But we couldn't have it both ways. 

So now, when we lust after these strong-minded men ("a white knight on a fiery steed" - listen to the old record by Bonny Tyler!) they are in very short supply. We have driven them back into the woodwork. We have shoved them away and shouted that we can manage very well without them, thank you very much.

Perhaps we can.

But do we really want to?

Dan brought me coffee in bed on Saturday morning and we sat in peaceful contemplation of the sunshine through the windows.

"The first thing I am going to do this morning is to give you a good whacking" he informed me.

To anyone reading this and not understanding Dan, it must sound awful. I have to tell you that Dan is the very last person on this earth who would give me a good whacking. It is not in his nature. A good spanking yes, but not a good whacking. Even when I annoy him above all endurance, his spanking is very controlled - ouchy, but controlled. 

Is this where I should be communicating to him? I thought to myself. Is this where I should be trying to explain that I have felt somewhat neglected this past couple of weeks? That I have felt he was too busy to be interested in me or what I was doing? That I had almost decided to keep a note of just how much he was out gallivanting around with all his 'stuff' while I was mostly at home 'alone'.

I decided not to say anything about it. Why try to provoke an argument? But it smarted. Almost as much as I knew my bottom was about to smart.

"Go get an implement".

How many times have you read that little command on this blog?

I would be interested to know how many of you are sent to fetch the implement shortly to be employed in reddening your rear end? If, like me, you are, do you consider this being submissive - obedient?

And when you are facing that drawer where they are kept, which implement do you choose? How do you make your decision?

Those of you whose husbands get the implement - how would you feel if you were sent to fetch it? 

I can tell you that many thoughts go through my mind at such a time. I would often like to refuse. But this is what I signed up for, isn't it, in the first place? I agreed to obey? Surely that means obey most things? And if spanking is consensual, as it is in this household, surely there should be no argument over me being asked to go get an implement?

But it is very hard to choose which implement is to be used. 

Especially as I rarely know what type of spanking it is going to be. I have known light hearted spankings turn into yelpy battles with Dan bringing me to tears. I have known spankings that start as the type you think are going to be unendurable, turn into the very best of sexy interludes. 

As I may not ask what type of spanking Dan intends,(he tells me it is up to him!)it becomes very difficult to choose the right implement for the occasion. Therefore I usually chicken out and fetch the Rose paddle. At least it is leather and flexible. (Ha! Silly me! I live with permanent crescent shapes decorating my sit-upon.) 

Sometimes I will feel able to pick another implement, when, for example, I know I have been snippy and full of attitude and have stirred up disharmony. On some occasions Dan will send me back for another implement so he can use more than one. 

I don't always like it, but he says that the end always justifies the means. (A means to an end? Ha!)

So I was thoroughly spanked. And it did hurt. My distancing had been noticed. The paddle did the commenting.

As I lay over his knee I asked why it was always me who had to fetch the implement and was told he thought it was good for me in order to be reminded of my place in the hierarchy. (I have a tendency to forget, it seems.) I would dispute that when I look around at some of our vanilla friends.

Dan also likes to be sure that the implement is going to fit the crime. 

He just loves using either of the nippers - big or small. That big one stays hidden well away. I would only ever bring it out if requested to do so. I even rub my bottom in anticipation before the little nipper is used. (How any of you can cope with cheeseboards or wooden paddles I have no idea.)

But back to the subject of being compliant.

Cards on table.

What do you do that you consider is compliance? And I don't mean taking your man a well-earned cup of tea, or massaging his back in the shower, or taking the rubbish bins out - I mean what do you do in order to obey

How submissive are you?
Would you agree to "obey" if you went back in time and had to say your vows all over again?
Could you choose your own implement for each spanking, knowing that you might be asked to bring out a much worse one if you chose wrongly?

Finally, what do you consider the difference to be between being compliant, and having a man exert control over you that you found unacceptable?

Just for the record, I would definitely say "I obey" again if I had my time over. Whether I would have behaved any differently without it, I don't know. Whether I would behave any differently way back in time when it was acceptable to spank your wife, I don't know that either. But I really look forward to your opinions, if you have time to give them.

I will finish on a silly note. Dan and I often share the bathroom, although sadly our shower is rather too small for two people of our age and stiff joints. LOL! 

As I bent down to dry my legs he stroked my bottom, consideringly. I thought he might be tempted with a few well placed spanks, but no. 

"Your skin is so smooth these days." More stroking. "It is so silky. Do you rub moisturising cream on it?" 

He was asking me this in all seriousness.

Honestly! Men! 

Tuesday, 7 April 2015

A Real Neat Blog

Thank you to both Sunny from Aimless Ramblings, and Jan from Dancin' With Roses, for nominating me for this award, although I am quite certain that you know everything about me by now. LOL!

It seems I have two lots of questions to answer, so here goes. The first set are from Sunny:

1  What is your favourite time of day, and why?

I love the early mornings in summer, when the sun is shining. I often get up quietly, without waking Dan, and wander round the garden in my robe, with a pair of secateurs, snipping dead heads of plants, and just breathing in the fresh air. Everything sparkles and the world is fresh and new. 

2  Name the last 3 books you read.

Written in My Own Heart's Blood by Diana Gabaldon, which is the last book in the Outlander series.

The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins - unusual and scary.

The Giver Quartet by Lois Lowry - thought-provoking.

3  What's your favourite movie?

The Good Year, starring Russell Crowe

4  If cost were not a factor, where in the world would you most like to visit?

La Pirogue - a very small island in the Seychelles.

5  Milk chocolate or dark chocolate?

The darker the better.

6  Are you a breakfast eater, and if so, what's your favourite breakfast?

Yes, I am a breakfast eater. Often when in a hurry I'll just have peanut butter on toast, but Dan and I love grilled bacon and fried tomatoes. Plus tea for him and a large latte for me.

7  What do you want for your next birthday?

A weekend in London with dinner at the Shard one evening, and another going to see The Mouse Trap. I have never managed to see it yet.

But truly, I am happy as I am now that Dan is cancer free.

The second set are from Jan:

1  Is there anything in real life you wish you could have done but don't think you ever will?

Not really, apart from study more when I was doing my final school exams. However, the good time I had more than made up for it! I am very thankful for my life. I couldn't imagine being anyone else or doing anything differently.

2  Have you ever wanted to tell someone about your TTWD/DD life, been really tempted?

All our friends know I write erotic fiction, but they don't know about TTWD/DD. I can only think of a couple who would understand, and even that might be pushing it a bit. After all, it took me months to get my head around it, and I had already started to initiate a more exciting sex life with my husband after being a "wet hen" for most of my life. I think the idea of being "spanked" would be a step too far for the majority of my very vanilla friends. So although I am sometimes tempted, it is not something I would really contemplate.

3  What is your favourite recipe, the one that tempts everyone?

We all adore Cottage Pie. (That's the one made with beef mince. Ground beef. Not so much Shepherd's Pie, which is the one made with lamb mince.) It is something I make on a regular basis during the winter months, and there is never any left over, regardless of how big the dish is!

4  Name 3 of your favourite "spanking books".

It goes without saying that I love all books by Leigh and PK. I couldn't pick a favourite as I adore Leigh's sexy cowboys, and I adore Cassie and am so grateful to Minelle for bringing her to my attention way back when I first came to Blogland. My other favourite writer is April Hill. She writes with such humour and nonchalance. But again, I couldn't pick a favourite.

5  Are you a dress or jeans girl?

We live in the country on an ex-farm. I spent most of my life around horses and dogs. Because I had to dress in smart clothes, ie suits, for work, I would always come home and put on jeans or jodhpurs the minute I got home. I still wear jeans every day, but I also love wearing long floaty skirts when out, especially in warm weather. I am far too old for short skirts, and somehow longer skirts are so elegant. 

I have trouble getting the size right with dresses as my top half is a bigger size than my bottom half. So if it fits my boobs, it looks like a sack lower down, and if it fits my hips, my boobs are squashed to death.

6  Can you think of one thing you wish someone had told you when you were 18? Are you brave enough to tell an 18 year old you know, that same thing?

Exactly what I wrote earlier. To study more as it would have meant less work and studying later on. Before I retired I used to tell my 16-18 year olds to study their socks off before exams. And mostly they did, apparently, because they mostly got excellent grades.

7  Do you forgive me for nominating you for this Award?

Of course I do! But you wait - I have a long memory. LOL!

The rules that come along with these things are as follows:

1  Put the Award logo on your post.

2  Answer the 7 questions asked by the person who nominated you.

3  Nominate any number of bloggers you like, linking them to their blogs.

4  Let them know you nominated them.

The bloggers I would like to nominate for this Award are as follows:


These are my 7 questions to you:

1  What is your favourite season of the year, and why?

2  Your house is on fire. All humans and pets are safely outside. What is the single item you have saved from destruction?

3  If money were no object and you could have any car you wanted, what would you buy?

4  Does your hair colour go with your character? Or would you secretly desire a change?

5  What are your three favourite songs?

6  If you were a bird, which would you be and why?

7  Do you have a collection of anything, and what is it?

Good luck!

Friday, 3 April 2015

Easter Snippets

First of all, I want to wish everyone who is reading here, and some who aren't, a Very Happy Easter. I hope you have a marvellous weekend with family, friends and neighbours. 

Hopefully you will get lots of eggs! I expect the Easter Bunny will be rushed off her feet! Or his feet - I've never personally run into the Easter Bunny, but I did watch the very funny episode of The Vicar of Dibley a few years ago.

Here, in England, Easter weather is very unpredictable, especially as the celebration may fall anywhere between late March and he end of April. We have a saying "Ne'er cast a clout till the May is out."
This is May:

Personally I haven't cast many 'clouts' at all so far.

But whether nor-easterly gales howl, clouds scud or snow flurries, or there is a balmy breeze and pale sunshine, whether the trees are still gaunt and winter-bare, or in the first flush of spring leaf, there are certain dishes which will always be eaten with pleasure. 

Good Friday may no longer be a fast day, as ordained by the Church, but for many it remains a day for quiet reflection and self-restraint, and a plain supper based upon fresh fish is popular.

In Scandinavia, a traditional accompaniment to the Good Friday main course is Janssen's Temptation:

3 large onions
2 lbs waxy potatoes
2 tins anchovies
Half a pint of single cream, or cream mixed with the top of the milk
3 oz butter

You peel and thinly slice the onions and cut the potatoes into strips like matchsticks.

Then you grease a shallow oven dish. Arrange a layer of potatoes, criss-cross with a lattice of anchovies, arrange the onions, finish with another layer of potatoes. Pour over half the cream, then the anchovy oil and dot with butter. Season with black pepper.

Bake in a very hot oven for an hour, or until the potatoes are browning. Pour over the remaining cream. Cook a further thirty minutes or so.

Easter Biscuits:

8 oz plain flour
Pinch of salt
Half a teaspoon cinnamon
4 oz butter
3 oz caster sugar
3 oz currants
1 beaten egg
A little milk
1 oz candied peel, chopped

Sift flour, salt and cinnamon. Rub in butter. Stir in sugar, currants and peel. Form into a stiff dough with the egg, and some milk if necessary. Chill the dough for at least one hour.

Roll out thinly. Cut into rounds. Bake on a baking sheet, at 200C/400F/Gas mark 6 (you may need to lower the temperature if you have a fan over), until the biscuits are a pale gold. This is usually about fifteen minutes. Cool on a tray. Brush with milk, sprinkle with sugar.

Did you know that an old folk lore is that bread baked on Good Friday will keep for seven years, and a loaf of it hung in the barn will keep the rats and mice away? Never tried it myself, but thought you might be interested. We have been simply plagued with rats, mice and a stoat, all winter!

As usual, I am expecting the family over for lunch, but on Easter Monday this year, instead of Sunday. As some of you know, I have been completely immersed in reading the Outlander books. (And would you believe it? My wretched daughter has beaten me to 'streaming' the first five episodes of Outlander on her SMART TV. Poor Dan has been forced into going out and getting hold of a similar TV for us, or live with me marching up and down and howling like a banshee!

However, I am digressing. Thinking about food (well, doesn't everyone?) I was looking in my Jane Austen cookbook with interest to find out what they ate in the second half of the 18th century. I thought you might be interested to know what a "course" of food consisted of back then.

As far as our Georgian ancestors were concerned, as soon as they walked into the dining room they saw before them a table already covered with separate dishes of every kind of food - soup, fish, meat, game, poultry, pies, vegetables, sauces, pickles, sweet and savoury puddings, custards and jellies - in number anything from 5 to 25 items, depending upon the grandeur of the occasion, and arranged symmetrically around the centre dish; this spread constituted a course which was only a part of the dinner! No wonder they called them "removes". You would've had to remove me by force; I think so much food would've paralysed me. No wonder they all suffered from things like gout.

I was reading what the local vicar, a Revd James Woodforde from Norfolk, ate for his Easter dinner. See what you think:

"A calf's head, boiled fowl and tongue, a saddle of mutton rosted on the side table, and a fine swan rosted with currant jelly sauce for the first course. The second course was a couple of wild fowl called Dun Fowls, larks, blamange, tarts, etc, and a good dessert of fruit after, amongst which was a damson cheese." The good Revd said "I never eat a bit of a swan before, and I think it good eating with sweet sauce. The swan was killed three weeks before it was eat and yet not the lest bad taste in it."

Thank goodness we don't eat swan these days!

Life in the Starsong household has been pretty much normal of late. I have hidden the Big Nipper in the bottom of my underwear drawer. (Dan rarely ventures there!) But I did receive rather more than a reminder spanking the other day.

It was one of those occasions when I thought perhaps spankings were a thing of the past. Whilst most of you seem to get regular attention paid to your 'situpons', Dan is pretty hopeless that way, and I have long since given up issuing him with reminders, or asking for spankings. 

So it came as rather a surprise to me the other morning to be suddenly upended over the side of the bed and thoroughly spanked.

Although very occasionally I lean over the wooden footboard once it has been padded with the duvet, mostly I am an over the lap type of girl. It is comfortable, it is a bit silly, Dan likes to lean back against the headboard, and frankly, it leads to other things. Lots of other things. Smug look here.

But this last few days I have been sporting some rather exotic looking horseshoe shaped marks all over my bottom and thighs. And one or two other places too. (Dan did warn me to keep still. He might as well have asked me to fly to the moon!).

Did I ever tell you that as much as I love the Rose paddle, it can be a bitch?! Especially when Dan chooses to swipe with it, and especially when he is not amused, chooses to force my legs apart and stand between them, and chooses to spank all up and down my thighs, my sit spots and even one or two places where I would rather not be spanked at all. 

To begin with I thought it was funny, but I soon changed my mind. I am positive the power of having that paddle in his hand goes to his head at times. I kept telling him not to spank so high. Then I kept telling him not to spank my hips. Then when we had finished with that little argument (he never seems to aim where he should be aiming!) he spanked as far down as my knees before returning and going back up the same way. 

I can honestly say that I have never been spanked quite like it. I really don't know where he got the idea from! 

"Oh, it's a nice colour of red" he joked. (I was busy burying my face in the duvet and making strangled noises.) "Let's see if we can make it a bit redder shall we?"

He kept muttering all those "cliche" sort of things like "I haven't finished yet", "Keep still", "Stop crawling forwards", "I seem to have missed a bit", "You will NOT tell me what to do", "Next time you mention inconsistency perhaps you'll remember this." 

When he finally let me up he decided he wanted to be all frisky. Ha! You could've toasted bread on my poor bottom! Personally I felt glad to survive. I was extremely glad to sit on a cushion at our kitchen table. I didn't dare moan and wriggle around in case he suddenly decided an encore was required.

Funny. You read about times like these and never think it will happen to you. Believe me when I say I have never been so glad in my life that the first implement he came to was the Rose paddle. I don't think I would have worn knickers or jeans for a week if it had been something made of wood! 

But I have to admit that as much as I hate to be spanked hard, it does something to my brain and turns me into a much happier, more content person. It must release some magical endorphins that have the "rose tinted spectacles" effect. Immediately after a spanking like that, and the excellent sex that follows, I am the model submissive wife. Now who would have thought it?!

Before I finish, this is a REAL road sign not too far from us. Can anyone beat it? LOL!

Till next time, lots of hugs!