Saturday, 14 July 2012

Fifty Shades of Parenthood

Everyone - except me - is talking about the must-read bestseller Fifty Shades of Grey. I was briefly excited, thinking it was the latest Farrow & Ball catalogue for the minimalist middle-classes. Now I discover it's a sort of DIY manual for repressed housewives. I can't say I'm keen. I'm comfortable with my repression and night-times are occasions for catching up on back issues of Gardeners' World rather than wading through a stranger's exhausting erotica. Mummy 365, however, has invited fifty bloggers to share their own parenting fantasies for the next cyber sensation: Fifty Shades of Parenthood. Now that does appeal, for fantasies I have aplenty, especially one, which goes something like this:


Nerving myself against the familiar surge of shame, I study it properly for the first time in months. It is dishevelled, matted with slime trails, a far cry from the alluringly-trimmed attraction that has, in my younger days, given so much pleasure to so many.

Years of child-rearing and middle-aged fatigue have killed off the passion. At the end of a long day I would just as soon lie down with a novel as face such vigorous demands, and now it reeks of neglect. I know that I have to rekindle the flame that I feel still burns deep within my suburban recesses if I am to become once again the woman that I was. It's just that, at my time of life, I need to do it in the morning before fatigue saps my suppleness, and in the mornings there are the children...

I do not want their minds sullied with my longings. The Vicar, unsuspecting, takes them off to Dunkin' Donuts. I have unfettered hours before me and I clench each of those precious moments in sweaty palms as I grab the emergency supply the Vicar keeps by the bedside and hurry to the place where I know I can find gratification.

There is a moist ripeness that is, even to my practised senses, almost indecent and temptation rears all around. I thrust at the luxuriant growth, my eager fingers stroking first a rigid smoothness, then, above it,  pliant, clammy folds. Closing my eyes, I inhale that once familiar musk. Memories of past indulgences float guiltily before me. I know beyond all doubt that, despite the clamouring of my conscience, I shall yield.

There is that moment of euphoria as I take possession, and that furtiveness as I pay my dues, hoping that that the Vicar will not guess my betrayal.

Back at home, I hurry through the preliminaries. I trim and tidy the unkempt tangle, pick off the globs of slime and, sinking my fingers into the humid depths, I gently widen the hole. Then, with a sigh of satisfaction, I insert my trophy through the bushy growth.

It is extraordinary how a hybrid tea rose can revitalise a jaded border. Sated now, but shamed, I ready myself to explain to the Vicar why his £12 of parking change has vanished from his bedside bowl.

28 comments:

  1. I am one of the lemmings currently reading that book... I'd rather read yours.. I am bored but want to know what happens.. As for a DIY manual... Really?! It's not that exciting. The sailing and gliding parts were fun though. Perhaps my mind is more filthy than most...

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    1. Sailing and gliding? Please- I don't want to know...!

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  2. Ooh you are good. And I'm so pleased to hear you're not reading Fifty Shades of Grey. I'm losing female friends left, right and centre to the book and have been wondering if I'm the only person in the world not reading it.

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  3. Ha! I haven't read ( and I don't think I intend to) read 50 Shades of Grey. I briefly considered posting 50 old men and titling it 50 Shanes of Grey. Who knows may be I still will...

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    1. You should enter this linky. It would be right up your street given the racy new blog you were starting.

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  4. Hah. I'm with you. Never gonna bother. I must admit I thought you were talking about your pond, but never doubted for a moment it was your garden (and not your lady one!) ;))

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    1. Clever girl! The pond is one of my burning passions but it doesn't involve enough trips to the garden centre to count as a top fantasy

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  5. I never intend to read THAT book - sounds awful - I do however think this meme is genius and I loved yours! The anticipation of the punchline got me all hot under the collar.

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    1. All credit to Mummy 365. Garden centre expeditions are guaranteed to get people all overcome!

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  6. haha I totally agree with you that there is too much hype around 50 Shades of Grey... loved your version though!

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  7. You, my middle-aged friend, are a genius! You had me at Farrow and Ball...

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    1. Don't go grey though. Book Room Red and Calke Green are the only ways forward...

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  8. Ha ha this is very funny, brilliantly written! I am abstaining from reading 50 Shades of Grey....mostly cos I hate to read anything that just about the whole of the planet is reading - puts me off straight away!

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    1. I'm the same. The thought that I might be seen as a trend slave embarrasses me more than the fear of being considered a mummy porno.

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  9. I've been priming my tools ready for some serious probing in the border, which is badly in need of attention. I like a bit of fluffy growth around the sides, but it needs something big going up the middle to provide something to focus on.

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  10. I'll never look at a rose in quite the same light ever again!

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    1. Hope it inspires you to risk a little earthy vigour.

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    1. Coming from such an accomplished erotic writer, that's a valuable compliment!

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  12. My goodness...I never knew gardening could bring such pleasure...tea roses...hmmm. You've opened my eyes to new horizons Mrs! Thanks so much for joining in on #50shadesofparenthood! ;)
    Karin @ Mummy365

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    1. Thanks for the brainwave. I enjoyed my spell of raunchy horticulture!

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  13. Ha! Brilliant! You kept me guessing right up to the bushy end....although the 'clammy folds' made me feel a bit nauseous....!

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    1. Yeah, they did me too, until I remembered I was talking about floribunda!

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