Chapter 46

Things One Should Only Do Once:

There are various lists that I have stumbled across over the years which relate to things one should never attempt to do.
For example re-marry, buy a second hand Alfa-Romeo, Morris dancing, incest. The list is long and potentially endless.

It is my contention that one should keep this list as short as one can accommodate, without getting too uptight about it.
I have for example re-married on two occasions, bought several new (not second hand in fact) Alfa- Romeos, one of which was my second favourite car of all time (yes yes it was a red GTV6 and it went like the clappers!), made a fairly desultory attempt at something approximating to Morris dancing but have never felt any strong, or even weak, urges to get into an incestuous relationship.

I once tried to persuade a work colleague to come parachute jumping. As the day approached he got more and more uncomfortable about it. I pointed out to him that he didn‘t have to do it.
“Well“ he replied “It all seems so unnecessary“.
Of course he was right. But looked at like that most things fall into that category, with the notably few exceptions of such activities as breathing regularly and eating occasionally.

So basically what I’m trying to say is “Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it”.

As I get older the possible avenues of exploration close in on me. Clive James wrote an excellent song about this in which as I remember somewhat inaccurately there is the line:

“Your life is a cage and the walls of this cage grow closer with age”.

How true.

I had to give up skiing a couple of years ago because my knee just refused to co-operate. Every time I wanted to turn right I instructed my body to turn - but the bit of my brain attempting to control my knee replied,
“You must be bloody joking”.
It was like being a raw novice. And that after forty years of skiing.

So, like it or not I‘m stuck with my diminishing horizons.

I do not propose to let this unduly effect my attitudes.

About six years ago I met a girl in Spain. I met her at a club in fact. Of course “a club“ in Spain is a bordello or brothel. This was the first time in my life that I had visited such an establishment. I can honestly say, in mitigation, that I was very drunk at the time. A friend invited me to accompany him and I guess I didn’t take all that persuading. I was curious.

The establishment was far from sordid or sleazy except perhaps for the two giant plastic rabbits which created the portico. Inside was a long brightly lit bar which was at the centre of a large shadowy room. The men congregated at the bar whilst ladies circulated in the shadows.
I thought this was sensible because it meant that the ladies could study the men and then only approach those whom they felt were acceptable, though this thought was probably just a sop to my sense of unease about being in such an establishment at all.

I, of course, was only there for a drink.

I was standing facing the bar talking to my friend when he gestured to me that somebody had approached me from the shadow. I turned and within a few nano-seconds my resolve had faded to zero.

The lady standing by my side was beautiful. She had long black hair, dark, dark brown eyes, beautiful light brown skin, a trim figure and was dressed in white.

Well, to cut a long story short, the result of this fragmentary liaison was that I came back to Madrid a few weeks later and we had a really great week’s holiday on the Costa del something or other. (A friend asked “Wasn’t it expensive?” “Yes” I replied “About the same as taking my wife”.
Incidentally I am still in occasional contact, by email, with Paula, or Claudia, as her real name is though I think our lives have somewhat drifted apart.

Now you are probably wondering by now what is the point of all this. Well I'm coming to it.

Claudia, amongst her other attributes has one small tattoo.
It is in the shape of a sun and it is above and adjacent to her tummy-button. I find it quite charming.

Ever since then I have tried to pluck up the courage and/or stupidity to have a similar tattoo on my otherwise tattoo-less body.

Yesterday, after about six years deliberation, I finally did it.

I now have tattooed on my stomach, above and adjacent to my tummy-button, a sun. It is rather bigger than Claudia’s.
I’m still recovering from the shock of actually having it done. I am both delighted and horrified but I don’t regret it.
Though I wish somebody had pointed out to me the obvious fact that having needles stuck into one's body hurts!

I would wish to record however that it is definitely in the category of things that one should only do once…..