Friday, January 29, 2010

The naked man and the twelve French ladies.

Lesson one for bloggers - Never ever write about how good the weather is. You can say it's miserable , or cold ,or wet, or snowy and nothing will happen. But, say the sun is out and the internet muses that deal with hubris burst into action. Today, our week of wonderful spring like weather has gone to be replaced by a cold, grey, dreech mist. More Tobermory than Toulouse.

At nine this morning a strange man appeared at the door . I say strange only because he sported a luxuriant mass of face stubble which was exactly the same colour as his bobble hat. The disconcerting combination of the two identical tones - the grey whiskers and the grey wool of his hat - made him look eerily shaggy, something akin to an ageing orang-outang. You will understand from this preamble that my attention was focused on his startling appearance rather than the verbal invitation to the village hall he delivered. I caught something about him being the caretaker, he'd turned the heating on, there was a gathering, the art class, the ladies would like to meet me, could I come over? Still distracted by his appearance and fearful that Wilf and Digby might catch a glimpse of this woollen apparition I gently but surely escorted him back to the gate and said 'yes, of course. I'd love to'.

As I pushed the door of the village hall open there facing me at one long table were twelve French ladies of a certain age, chatting vivaciously away, all rather smartly dressed . It was immediately clear from the pads and pencils scattered around that this was the weekly village art class. A scene of calm , gentle refinement. I introduced myself, thanked them for the invitation, spoke French as clearly and correctly as I could and shook each ones hand, remembering to ask where each of them lived and how long they lived there. It was only when I enquired what they were drawing that I was suddenly engulfed with a sense of approaching panic. Each of these apparently demur souls seemed to have an altogether unheathy fixation on the nude male form in its most anatomically correct state.What in heavens name had I stumbled across?

At this point I became aware of a noise behind me. Turning round I caught sight for the first time of a youngish gentleman standing on the hall stage . He was lighting a cigarette and clearly suffering from the cold. Heating or not the village hall is a place of glacial draughts. As he turned all was revealed - literally and figuratively. The reason for the twelve French ladies anatomical fixation now quite apparent. I smiled, and retreated.


  1. I thought you were going to say they wanted you to be their model

  2. Ha ha ha ha ha! I thought they were going to ask you to model, too! I'd say you got off lucky! Next time, perhaps you should take the boyz for your own protection! Oh, I'm going to be giggling about this all day!

  3. Hahaha! are so funny!
    Listen...there couldn't have been much to write home about (I mean draw about)- if my experience of peeking at males in icy swimming pools is anything to go with.
    The question really is...why were you invited? We want the credentials!
    Take care and thanks for a side-splitting laugh!

  4. Winchester, you took the words out of my mouth! That was my first thought as well. Well, I am a woman of a certain age...guess that's where my mind wanders...

    Petey and I are going to take advantage of the glorious weather today knowing that we have days of rain to look forward to next week.

  5. WW - Do you know 'the font'?.
    Houndstooth - dead right I'll be taking the boyz with me the next time!
    Max - In this village it's anyones guess why I was invited. Having met me I fear that an invitation to model au naturel will not be forthcoming. A relief to me and a disappointment to them.
    Petey - best not let your mind wander.
    PT&E - I'm far too Calvinist to start my day with 12 sex crazed ladies and a chain smoking male nude.

  6. I also thought they were going to ask you to "pose" for them! This would never happen in my small town of Lovettsville Virgina--Or if it does, I don't know about it!! Thanks for the chuckle!!

  7. Brilliant - actually got me off google reader and on here to say thank you for the laugh!
    I was wondering how you were going to wriggle out of being the model!

  8. We are still baffled by the invitation. Maybe they were hoping you'd bring another case of champagne? It seems a lot of trouble to send someone over to your house to bring you back for what? Small talk? Heavy lifting?

    Bonnie and Puffy..we're both blonde today!

  9. Stay away for a day or two and I miss all the dirt!! I do have to agree with Winchester - my first thought was that they needed a model!

    Was Madame Bay there by chance?

  10. I may do, Angus, if she lived in Winchester recently