Moonlighting (The Romantic date. Fifty Shades of Newham)

27 Mar

I have been busy busy busy over the last few months. I may have appeared to be neglecting my blogging. I have been working on getting my eBook, Angel Girls ready for release as a paperback. It is all very exciting, and I think  we may soon have a launch date.  Infact, I confess I have also been doing a bit of moonlighting. I have been doing a weekly blog post on the “I was born in Islington” site. This “Midweek memory” feature has proved very popular, so I have continued to write on this page. However, I appreciate that it can only be viewed by a limited audience who are members of this group. I have also been doing an occasional column on my home page called “Fifty Shades of Newham” this has also been popular and I would like to continue it here, so that it can reach a wider audience. I hope it will give you all a smile. God knows in this grim weather we could all do with a laugh. For those of you who have not read any of my Fifty Shades stories, it concerns a young girl who has illusions of grandeur. She would love to be an Essex girl, but is not classy enough. She has a boyfriend called Dwayne, and a best friend called Lambrini. Read on…

The Romantic Date.

My Dwayne had asked me to meet him along the Greenway for what I hoped would be a romantic evening. The Council insist it is called The Greenway now. All the locals still call it the sewer bank though, cos that’s what it is really. Our Mayor, Robin B’Stard, called it “A hidden gem that cuts across our vibrant borough. An ideal place for cyclists and walkers”  He forgot to mention that it is also an ideal place for muggers and drug dealers, and covered in dog shite. Never mind. With the wind in the right direction, and if you don’t look too closely, it can look quite pretty.

If the wind is not in the right direction, however, the stench from the sewers can make your eyes water. At this time of year it usually hums a bit up there, but at the moment it’s about minus 15 and fecking freezing, so it smells okay. So long as you don’t inhale too deeply.

I thought I would bring a picnic. I thought it was a bit nippy for a picnic, and I wasn’t sure how we would manage to have a snog whilst wearing balaclava’s to keep out the cold, but I made us some fish paste sarnies and a flask of cuppa soup and set off. I had really pushed the boat out. I think I’ve been neglecting my Dwayne recently, and I was keen to relight his fire.

Dwayne looked a bit agitated when I got to the sewer…er, Greenway. He said I had to look for some thing he had lost on the grass. Ooh, I love a treasure hunt! I wondered briefly if he had hidden an engagement ring in one of those lovely little plastic Easter eggs for me to find? why else would he arrange to meet me up here? I wondered dreamily along the grass verge, picking my way through the dog shite, and looking from side to side. Dwayne was frantically searching the grass. “Keep looking!” he called over to me.  I couldn’t see anything. Apart from the empty lager cans and the dog shite that is.

Just when I was ready to give up, my Dwayne let out a delighted woop. He was waving a little plastic bag at me, that looked like it was filled with dried herbs. I was dead impressed. My Dwayne must be learning to cook. Bless him. He was so enthusiastic about it, that he very soon had a queue of people waiting to buy his herbs. I let him serve his customers whilst I set out our fish paste sarnies. I even took off my balaclava. I poured out a plastic mug of cuppa soup as Dwayne served his last customer and prepared myself for a hot night of passion amongst the chick weed.



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