It’s grey.
The sky that is.
Properly grey – and cold. Well 62 degrees of cold and that, in my book, is only slightly above freezing.
No chance of enjoyable slothful study today then?
Proper slothful study can only really be entered into with enthusiasm when the temperature gauge rises above 70.
Having finished ‘Committed’, Elizabeth Gilbert’s sequel to ‘Eats, Prays, Loves.’ which was both enjoyable and informative but, for someone like me who likes her ballerinas in tutus and her books in basic, just a bit too navel contemplating and deciding that today I will take on Elizabeth Gaskell’s, ‘The Life of Charlotte Bronte’, but failing to connect with the author, who was born Elizabeth Cleghorn Stevenson (a name that might interest a couple of readers) despite loving her novel ‘Sylvia’s Lovers’, I allow myself to drift aimlessly, and to think about things one really shouldn’t when one is bored and the sky is grey.
Masturbation.
Don’t turn your nose up in horror or coy embarrassment (Offsprung excepted), I told you girls, we are all the same. So don’t pretend you have never heard of the word or engaged in the act because me and Elizabeth Gilbert won’t believe you , despite the fact she only uses the word once in ‘Eats, Prays, Loves (she is obviously a far more spiritual being than me).
Look I’m travelling on my own. I have no desire to return home with some unspeakable sexual disease and believe it or not boys, girls have needs too.
It’s a funny word isn’t it? Masturbation, Frigging, Buffing the Beaver, or my personal favourite ‘Airing the Orchid’.
Whether using the hands God gave us, or man made devices, it is a basic need when travelling alone, like occasional hot water and travel insurance – not something you need every day but good to know it’s available.
Taking a vibrator on your journey, for me is not an option. As one who blushes with the fury of a menopausal hot flush when my electric toothbrush goes off in my hand luggage, the mortification of having my case opened and a sex aid being discovered by the queue police would ensure I never left Blighty again.
I am not really sure why we find vibrators embarrassing but we do. We hide them in the knicker drawer and, if we’re really posh we have a special satin purse for them to rest in, safely hidden under the Big Pants…like no-one would dream of looking under the Big Pants.
I remember when a clever young friend lived in the East End and shared a house with more clever young things. She was away travelling one time and, whilst away, the house became infested with bedbugs and had to be decontaminated; yes even clean hair can attract nits and clever young things, bedbugs.
On return she was on the phone to her house mate:
“You what? You had to take EVERYTHING out? EVERYTHING?”
Her housemate was a man, albeit a man of the, David, naughty boy variety.
“Oh my God!” She slams down the phone.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask.
“Bedbugs. They’ve had to take everything out of my room!”
Yuk.
‘Never mind’ I offer consolingly, ‘at least the bed bugs have gone’.
“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G!”
Yep, her only embarrassment wasn’t the smelly socks, the penicillin left over experiments under the bed, the unwashed bedlinen… it was the fact that they had found her vibrator.
What has all this to do with being kind to your knees one of you might be wondering – bear with me.
I have always been of the belief that exercise in any kind of strenuous form, outside of the bedroom, is bad for you. One of my dearest friends, (also a singleton) who cycles everywhere, runs three miles a day and, just for the hell of it plays netball all weekend, has had to have a knee replaced and the surgeon assures her the second one may follow.
I keep telling her that exercise is merely a substitute for sex.
Imagine my delight therefore when I came across this bit in ‘Eats, Prays, Loves.’ (Kindle Page 294)
Wayan, our heroine’s Balinese friend, is tending her injured knee.
“ I can tell by your knees that you don’t have much sex lately.”
I said, “Why? Because they are so close together?”
She laughed. “No-it’s the cartilage. Very dry. Hormones from sex lubricate the joints.’
Wayan goes on to tell the author she will find a man for her.
My point is, if you are alone on your travels and the sky is grey, don’t go for a quick jog up a mountain, give yourself a little pleasure – air the orchid – be kind to your knees.
Fear not, dear reader, sunshine is forecast for tomorrow.