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Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker

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Daisy
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #270 on: August 05, 2010, 05:40 PM »
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If you two keep on like this we'll never get the next chapter! I'll certainly be dead and buried and in ignorance too - I'll have to do a ghostly return to MW to read the rest and haunt you all in the process. w00t nervous

Oh dear ..... I'm in stitches here .... lmao
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #271 on: August 05, 2010, 05:42 PM »
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Okay .... another answer ..... because George wants revenge ...

(I really hesitate to post that, because George is a good Christian and I don't think they go in for revenge .... I, on the other hand ......... lmao)

George your marketing of this book is IMPECCABLE ..... you are a great salesman ....
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #272 on: August 05, 2010, 05:55 PM »
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Okay .... another answer ..... because George wants revenge ...

Hmmmm!! Interestiiiiing!!  You’re credited first with that one.

There’s gonna come a time when you’re gonna think:  Yippee!!!

Quote
(I really hesitate to post that, because George is a good Christian and I don't think they go in for revenge .... I, on the other hand ......... lmao)

Ya reckon !!  You have nooooooo idea !!!  Smile

Quote
George your marketing of this book is IMPECCABLE ..... you are a great salesman ....

Yeah, I’m gonna make a fortune !!!  You’re credited first with that answer too: to maka lotta money !!


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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #273 on: August 06, 2010, 09:23 PM »
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            CHAPTER SEVEN

               VIC

   The only reason she’d ever got involved with Vic, in the first place was because he’d lived just up the road from her Aunty Lily, in Bishopstoke, and she’d been able to use visiting him as a excuse for visiting her, behind her father's back, but as the result of their plotting and scheming together they had become quite close as conspirators, and she had found his doting adoration quite flattering but she'd had trouble taking him seriously, because he'd always been a laughing stock.
   Her father had ridiculed him endlessly, from the day he'd first come round to see her, at the age of eleven, for being “a four-eyed, lanky rasher of wind, who couldn't walk straight without falling over”, for being tall, thin, uncoordinated, having bad eyesight, wearing thick glasses and for being useless at sport, which they’d all thought was extremely important in those days, because her brother, David, was extremely good at football, and she, herself, was very good at netball and they had both played for their schools in the Junior Schools League which had been their whole life.
And Vic's parents hadn't been a lot of help either, because they’d treated him as if he were a baby, for being the youngest child of ten, and had even called him "Boy", instead of using his proper name, as if he were a perpetual infant, but now that she had nobody else, she had to decide what she could make of him, for being aware that he was all she had, despite her knowing that when he'd asked her to marry him, in 1959, the year before she'd met her handsome, mature, self-assured, impressive, protective husband, she hadn't been able to make anything of him at all, for having no personality, no confidence and for being a complete joke and a wimp, but that had been nine years before, and things had changed radically since then.
   Vic had greatly improved. He'd done very well for himself at work. He'd followed his parents into the teaching profession, and despite having no degree, had overtaken her husband, even. He'd risen to become a deputy headmaster at the Junior School at Cupernham in a nice area of Romsey, where her husband had sunk from being a Grade 1 lecturer at a College of Further Education in Crawley to being a temporary, probationary school teacher at a secondary modern school for boys at Portsdown in a rough area of Portsmouth on only a one-year, temporary contract. Vic had been promoted where her husband had been demoted. Vic had gone up in the he world where her husband had gone down and his improvement in status had brought about a corresponding improvement in his confidence, his character, his personality and his appeal.
Vic was now a pillar of the community and worthy of credit and respect from everybody he met, and especially from her father who had never been more than a lowly, unskilled store-man at the Barron and Crowther engineering works in Eastleigh, whom Vic now greatly outranked, and so nobody, and especially her father, was in a position to ridicule him. Sporting status wasn’t what mattered when you grew up; it was professional status, and Vic had more of that than anybody, and looking back, she could see that her father's earlier ridicule had just been childish, pathetic and envious. He'd just been jealous of Vic's latent ability, grammar school status and middle-class background.
 Vic had shown up all his detractors and tormentors, and was now somebody worthy of respect, but she couldn't help feeling guilty at the way she'd neglected him over the past five years. All she could say in own defence was that she'd been rather tied-up elsewhere, and had found it rather difficult to fit him in, but she hadn't neglected him entirely.
She had remembered to phone him on a regular basis just to make sure he was staying in line and remaining true, and so now, she was in no doubt how he would react if she were to invite him over to see her again, he wouldn’t hold her past neglect against her, but would be round in a flash, swooning all over her like an abject lovesick animal, deprived of sustenance for years, which was probably the sort of pitiful, doting adoration she needed to repair her damaged ego, restore her crumbling confidence and steady her shattered nerves.
She'd been pleased to see that her husband had raised no objections to her inviting her “old school friend” Vic round again, for seeing him as a genuine friend, and had made no complaints about the length and frequency of his visits for rarely being at home. They'd bought a seventeen foot "Kestrel" dinghy, a few weeks earlier to provide her with something to do at the weekends, whilst James was back in Crawley visiting his wife, to reduce her anguish, at their being apart and her husband had become obsessed with learning how to sail it, but once James had gone out of the picture she'd no longer wanted to spend her weekends with her husband, because she'd had Vic, and had cried off, in the hope that he wouldn't become suspicious and to her relief, he hadn't, and as the months had gone by, he never had, despite the fact that on one occasion he'd actually caught them out kissing, which she'd never expected to get away with.
It had been on one of the rare occasions in the summer of 1968, when he'd stayed at home to have Sunday lunch before going out. After lunch was over, Vic and she had gone into the lounge and sat on the sofa and started kissing as usual, thinking that her husband was safely occupied in the kitchen doing the washing-up, when the door had suddenly swung open and he'd been standing there looking utterly horrified. Fortunately for her they'd just been breaking apart, and so she'd made it out to have been a joke and had leapt up off the sofa and shot across the room like a rocket, and stood by the mantelpiece, laughing her head off and her husband had glared at Vic, sitting on the sofa with his head down between his knees, very unhelpfully, looking the picture of guilt, and then glared at her, and given her the dirtiest look she’d ever seen, and then, much to her relief, ignored the matter altogether, as if he considered unworthy of notice for being beneath his contempt and changed the subject, and started to talk about something else.
   She realised that she'd had a lucky escape. She was only too well aware what would have happened if he’d worked out she was carrying on behind his back. He would just have kicked her straight out of the front door, because he’d nearly done the same thing two years earlier, when she’d told him about Michael, - and she’d no longer been seeing him, so this would have been much worse.
She was much more careful after that, but despite her best efforts she’d still got caught out once again, eight months later. It had been at the Ouija Board session at a friend’s house. She’d asked the Ouija Board questions to show Vic up for having been so unkind as to threaten to walk out on her and emigrate to Canada and marry somebody else, if she didn’t leave her husband, but she’d got shown up herself instead. The Ouija Board had answered all her questions in Vic’s favour and frightened the wits out of her, and she’d panicked at the thought of losing him and nearly passed out, and her husband had seen everything, and she’d been terrified that he was going to take issue, but once again, had found to her surprise that he hadn't, and had started to think that she would never have any trouble with him whatever happened, when three weeks later, she'd found that she couldn't have had more, but not of the sort that she'd expected, but precisely the opposite.
Instead of her husband catching her out carrying on with another man, behind his back, she'd caught him out carrying on with another woman behind hers. It had been quite horrendous. It had involved her brother's wife, Sandra. It had been depraved beyond belief.  He'd actually sexually assaulted her in the back of a taxi, in a drunken stupor! She'd got all the details in a frantic, blow-by-blow account from Vic, who'd seen everything, for having been there.
   They'd all gone out for an evening meal at the Compton Arms in the New Forest and had come home afterwards in different taxis. She'd got into the back of the first one with her brother, and her husband had got into the back of the second with Sandra and Vic and had sat between them and no sooner had the taxi started to move, than he’d turned to Sandra sitting to his right and started to molest her. He'd slid his right arm round her shoulders and leant across her and tried to kiss her, and then had slid his left hand up under her dress and tried to interfere with her between her legs, and Sandra had spent the whole journey screaming and shouting and trying to fight him off and Vic had been utterly appalled for never having seen anything so horrendous in the whole of his life, and hadn't been able to believe what he was watching.
   She’d been appalled. It was horrendous. Why would her husband sexually assault his own sister-in-law? He was normally the picture of decency and propriety. Had Sandra encouraged it? Were she and her husband carrying on? Had they both been drunk? What did her brother think? Had Sandra told him? She felt utterly sick. She'd been slighted and publicly disgraced. Her husband had shown her up in front of Vic, her brother and his wife, and especially his wife. He'd shown a preference for Sandra over herself. It was utterly degrading and heart-rending.
   He'd never put his arm round her shoulders and tried to kiss her, or put his hand up under her dress and tried to interfere with her between her legs, despite its having been precisely what she'd tried to persuade him to do on the train when they'd been heading off for their honeymoon in Torquay, on their wedding-day when she'd given him a provocative, inviting little smile and said, in a teasing tone of voice: "You just can't wait to get your hands on me, can you?" with no success at all. She'd assumed that he didn't go in for that sort of thing, but she could see now that he did, but not with her, only with Sandra. It was absolutely mortifying.
   The next day she went round to see her brother to see what he made of it, and was surprised to find that he had a completely different story to hers. Sandra had told him that her husband had done very little towards molesting her, and that he'd made only a feeble attempt to kiss her and that he'd been joking rather than serious, and that it hadn't worried her at all and that she'd had a lot worse to put up with from drunken colleagues at office parties. She hadn't been able to believe it. Vic's story and hers were completely different. Somebody had to be lying. Who was it? She told her brother what Vic had said and he was most concerned and they went into the other room to see Sandra to see what she made of it, and were staggered to find that she just laughed hilariously and said that Vic was talking rubbish and that if anything, he'd been worse than her husband, because he’d egged him on, and kept giggling inanely, as if he thought the whole thing was a joke, instead of remonstrating with George, and telling him off, and coming to her rescue and so it was obvious what he was trying to do. He was just trying to stir up trouble for her husband, because he hated him.
   Jill's mind was in a whirl. She didn't know if she was coming or going. Who could she trust? She had thought she could trust Vic, but it didn't look now as if she could. He'd made her look even more stupid than her husband. Now, she not only had a husband who made amorous advances on other women, but a boyfriend who egged him on! She felt utterly sick and then as if that wasn't bad enough, two weeks later, she had something even worse to put up with. She caught her husband out in the street, with his arms around another women kissing her passionately, for the whole world to see, and, not only that, he didn't even have the decency to stop, when she turned up and caught him at it.  It was utterly appalling!

            





As seen on Channel Five, after an episode has ended!!

Answer the following question and win a £100 PRIZE !!

 Why does George want his novel published?

The correct answer appears on the last page of his novel.

The first person to get the right answer wins the prize.

Clue:   If you go back to the beginning the right answer is staring you in the face.


Accredited Answers So Far


You wrote a novel because you want your life to live on when you die, sort of thing.

You wrote a novel because you want your children to learn the important lessons you've experienced in life.

You wrote a novel because your wife suggested you do it but now she's gone, you have the motivation to do it.

You wrote a novel because you have nothing better to do with your time now.

If someone keeps a journal - either spiritual or life, it can be extremely therapeutic.  Some people have terribly harrowing times, but find they are completely unable to describe them or talk about them in any way to anyone else.  Writing this down does two things ... it keeps it private and can provide a great relief, especially if the journal keeper is harbouring great feelings of bitterness (say).  So, rather than visit a p-shrink, just write it down.  Additionally, writing down a personal history can be extremely revealing - but only if the journal keeper is honest.  It can put certain things in perspective.  So, it is therapeutic and enables one to move on.  

All of that equals closure .... i.e. closing one chapter and moving on to the next ...

Okay .... another answer ..... because George wants revenge ...

George your marketing of this book is IMPECCABLE ..... you are a great salesman .... you want to make a lot of money






[ Last edit by George183 August 06, 2010, 09:42 PM ] IP Logged
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #274 on: August 09, 2010, 11:42 AM »
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Blinking flip, George, I'm exhausted with the drama of it all.  fainting
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #275 on: August 09, 2010, 11:55 AM »
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Blinking flip, George, I'm exhausted with the drama of it all.  fainting

Really? It hasn't got started yet. I must say it was exhausting writing it too, but it was even worse living it.

If Ch 7 nearly made you faint you’re gonna need smelling salts for Chapter 8, altho Amy's and Neil's tirades are something of a preparation for it.

Oh! Did I mention? Amy actually appears in Chapter 8 in a very romantic role, straight out of "Gone With The Wind".  Smile

And it’s all true to life!! Honest!!  yes


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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #276 on: August 09, 2010, 11:57 AM »
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Really? It hasn't got started yet. I must say it was exhausting writing it too, but it was even worse living it.

If Ch 7 nearly made you faint you’re gonna need smelling salts for Chapter 8, altho Amy's and Neil's tirades are something of a preparation for it.

Oh! Did I mention? Amy actually appears in Chapter 8 in a very romantic role, straight out of "Gone With The Wind".  Smile

And it’s all true to life!! Honest!!  yes



I need to lie down in a darkened room...
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #277 on: August 09, 2010, 12:24 PM »
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Really? It hasn't got started yet. I must say it was exhausting writing it too, but it was even worse living it.

If Ch 7 nearly made you faint you’re gonna need smelling salts for Chapter 8, altho Amy's and Neil's tirades are something of a preparation for it.

Oh! Did I mention? Amy actually appears in Chapter 8 in a very romantic role, straight out of "Gone With The Wind".  Smile

And it’s all true to life!! Honest!!  yes




Okay .... I've got the smelling salts on stand by George ..... sock it to me ... fainting
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #278 on: August 10, 2010, 11:11 PM »
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CHAPTER EIGHT

AMY

   They'd all been invited by a friend of Jill’s to a birthday party at the house of a neighbour, called Amy, a couple of streets away, at number 32, White Hart Road. Amy apparently was feeling lonely and depressed because her husband had gone off to work for an oil company in the Middle East, on a two year contract, and she hadn't seen him for a year, and so she'd decided to have a big party to cheer herself up and had asked her friends to invite their friends to increase the numbers.
   Once Jill had arrived with her husband and Vic and had been introduced to their hostess, who had been quite a pleasant, short, mousy-haired, young woman, she'd moved off with Vic to the other side of the room where she could talk to him in private, without her husband butting in, and as they stood there chatting away happily together, totally absorbed in each other’s company, she suddenly noticed that Amy had gone over to speak to her husband, standing by the front door, and was surprised to see that they were talking and laughing together in such a free and easy manner that you would have thought they were old friends, which Jill didn’t understand, at all.
Had they met before? Not as far as she knew. He’d never mentioned her. He’d had no contact with her at all as far as she knew. The mutual friend who had invited them to the party had been her friend not his. There had been no previous contact between them, at all, as far as she knew and she assumed that Amy was just doing the rounds as the convivial hostess and had alighted upon her husband because he was looking a bit lost and alone, and would soon be moving on, but as time went by she noticed that she hadn't and that things had got even worse.
Now her husband and Amy had become rather familiar with the exchange of playful little prods and intimate little squeezes, as if they were extremely used to being together in each other’s company, and Jill started to become a bit annoyed. What did her husband think he was doing being so familiar with another woman at a party? He was usually the model of decorum, but he wasn’t being very decorous now, and he was doing it blatantly in front of her face, because he knew she was watching him, because she’d already caught his eye, and had made it clear to him what she thought of his dalliance. She’d never seen him behave like it before, so why had he started now? She didn’t know.
And, it wasn't just any woman: it was the hostess, whose party it was. The room was filled with her family, friends and neighbours and her husband’s family, friends and neighbours too, and everyone knew who her husband was, and they all knew that it wasn’t the man she was flirting with right now. She couldn’t believe it, and she couldn’t believe how her husband was showing her up either. He was carrying on in front of her, with no regard for her feelings at all. It was unbelievable. And then she noticed that things had got worse still. Her husband had put his arm round Amy's waist and was guiding her to the front door, and they were going out of the house and down the garden path together.
Her husband was actually leaving a party they were attending together, to go outside with another woman, in front of her face, knowing she was watching! It was incredible. It was too outrageous for words. What did he think he was doing? How did he think he was going to get away with it? She didn't know, but she had some bad news for him. He wasn’t, because she wasn’t going to let him. She was going to follow him outside and catch him out, and give him a dressing down, he would never forget!
She waited a couple of minutes to give him time to get started and set off to follow him. She strode purposefully across the room with Vic in hot pursuit, aware that everybody in the room was watching them open mouthed. She had become the “Cause Celebre” and opened the front door, and set off down the garden path, to start her search, expecting to find him hiding away, down some dark alley where he could carry on his flagrant liason, in secret, but she got a shock.
She’d only gone two steps down the garden path, when she saw him clearly illuminated in the bright glare of the amber street-lamps, in front of her, standing quite openly on the far side of their Morris Minor estate wagon, locked with Amy in the most passionate embrace she'd ever seen.
She froze in her tracks, utterly appalled. It was horrendous. He was bending over her, with his lips pressed down upon hers, like something from a bill-poster on a road-side hoarding, promoting a Romantic Film-Epic. She couldn't believe it. It was indeed, like her favourite from "Gone With The Wind" with Clark Gable and Vivien Leigh, where he had taken her violently into his arms before bending over her to press his lips feverishly down upon hers in a moment of mad passion.
He'd never kissed her like that! He had, in fact, never kissed her at all! She’d thought he didn’t go in for it, but he did, apparently, with Amy, but not with her. It was utterly heartbreaking, and despite her standing there, watching, he wasn’t stopping. He was ignoring her, and she was flooded with foreboding. What did he think he was doing? He knew she was watching him. As soon as she’d come out through the front door and her eyes had focussed on him, she'd found his eyes already on her, but he was ignoring her. He hadn’t acknowledged her presence. He hadn’t batted an eyelid. What was going on?
And she suddenly realized that he was turning her into the most humiliating and degrading spectacle she could ever have imagined in her worst nightmare. He was making her stand out in the street, in front of all her friends and neighbours, frozen to the spot, with Vic, standing two steps behind, and make her watch, whilst he kissed another woman, fervently, devotedly, tenderly and lingeringly, right in front of her face. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole, but it didn't. What was he doing? And she nearly fainted as the horrifying truth suddenly sank in.
He was paying her back for what she'd done to him, when she'd kissed Vic in front of his face, in the lounge nine months earlier. She'd thought she'd got away with it, but, apparently, she hadn’t. He'd realized what she’d done, and he’d been waiting to pay her back. And this was her comeuppance. He was turning her into the most pathetic, public spectacle the world had ever seen. A wife having to stand idly by, rooted to the spot whilst her husband passionately kissed another woman right under her nose, with the whole world watching, as he continued to do for the next five minutes.
It could have gone on forever. Time stood still. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. Everybody remained motionless like statues. They could all have been table-top figurines, in a Victorian illuminated-cabinet melodrama, but she'd never seen one with a scene as appalling as this. Gory executions and heartless banishments were nothing in comparison. This wasn't just malicious persecution at the hands of an evil oppressor. It was insidious treachery at the hands of a supposedly devoted husband. She wished she were dead.
   She couldn't believe her husband could have conceived anything so callous, let alone carried it out, and then as if that wasn't bad enough, once he finally decided to end his humiliating charade and stop kissing Amy, and had slowly extricated himself from her lingering, reluctant, entwining embrace, he came strolling back to the house with her as bold as brass, holding her hand in his, as if she belonged to him, and gave Vic and her a friendly nod and a smile as he passed them frozen to the spot on the garden path, as if nothing had happened, and they were all still on the best of terms, and nobody had been offended at all. She couldn't believe it. She couldn't have been offended more.
The next day, Vic and she went over the appalling events of the previous evening together trying to work out what on earth they had witnessed. Her husband had completely and utterly humiliated her in front of the whole neighbourhood, and then had literally laughed in her face, and then had gone back into the house with Amy and continued flirting with her until the party was over, and then, hadn’t even uttered one word of apology afterwards. It had been absolutely hateful and she couldn’t believe that he could have treated her like it. She was aware that he’d never been madly in love with her but she had always thought he was kindly disposed, if for no other reason, because he was a Christian, but that had been neither kind nor Christian, it had been malicious and satanic, and she couldn’t help feeling utterly heartbroken. It wasn’t so much that she’d lost a lover, but that she’d lost a supposedly, decent, honest and devoted husband, who she had thought she could trust to stand loyally by her and support her, forever. And why had he chosen the previous evening to carry out his pernicious plan?
She had no idea and Vic was no help. All he could do was keep ranting on about her husband’s “treachery”, and how they’d “caught him out” and how she would now “be able to leave him” because she had “the perfect excuse”, but leaving him was the last thing she wanted to do. That would mean having him divorce her for adultery for living with another man, with whom she was not having sex, and showing her up to be a depraved adulteress, despite the fact that she wasn’t, over which her father’s family would be only too quick to gloat. But, if he was having sex with another woman behind her back then she would be able to divorce him for adultery so that he would be the one who would be shown up, quite legitimately, to be a depraved adulterer, and, as far as she could see there was absolutely no doubt, from the fevered way he’d kissed Amy that he was having sex with her.
All she had to do now, was catch him in the act, about which she couldn’t help feeling boiling with rage and sick with disgust. He’d always told her that if ever he were to meet somebody else he preferred then he would tell her about it, and leave her on a friendly and amicable basis with her blessing, and what had he done? Precisely the opposite. He’d told her nothing about it at all, and, had carried on with Amy behind her back. He’d encouraged her to think she could trust him when she couldn’t to lull her into a false sense of security, so that she would never suspect he would ever do anything so treacherous. And, when she came to think of it, she could see that he'd told her other lies too. He'd been asking her for months if he could have sex with her because, he said, he wanted to start a family, as they had planned to do, once they’d bought a house, as they had, but that had been a lie too. He’d only said that to lull her into a false sense of security too, so that she would think he wanted to have sex with her, so that she would never suspect that he was already having it with somebody else.
It was unbelievable. He was too devious for words. So how long had he been carrying on with Amy, and how did he ever find time to see her, and she started to feel really sick as the wholesale magnitude of his lying started slowly to sink in. His whole life was a lie. He didn’t go sailing and he didn’t take evening classes. It was all a fornicating lie, so that he could see Amy, behind her back, without her ever suspecting. How could she have been so stupid? How could she ever have been so taken in?
How could she ever have believed that anybody in their right mind would ever want to spend all their time on their own going out sailing in a bloody sailing dinghy? And how could she ever have believed that her husband had been staying out until 10.30pm, three nights a week taking evening classes? She was utterly stupid. She couldn’t believe what a disgusting, devious, corrupt lying little sod her husband was. He was utterly vile. He was totally degenerate. So how long had it been going on and who knew that it had, besides her, and she couldn't help feeling even more sick, when she thought about it, because the answer was horrendous.
Everybody knew at the party: all Amy’s family, and friends, and her husband's family and friends. She’d carried on with her husband in front of them quite openly with no restraint at all, so what did that mean? It meant that her husband knew too, and that they’d probably had a separation. He’d probably met somebody else abroad, and left her to meet somebody else at home, and the man she had met was her husband.
So why had they finally decided to let her in on the secret then? Was her husband letting her know that he was thinking of leaving her to move in with Amy? It looked like it. So when was he planning to go, and why wasn’t he telling her about it?
Was he trying to torment her? Was he paying her back for not telling him she was carrying on with Vic, and Martin, and Michael behind his back? Did he know about her affairs after all. Had he known about them all the time? Had she not been as clever at keeping them a secret as she had hoped? Was he not as gullible as she had thought? It was all rather nerve-racking, but it didn’t really matter, because she knew now what was going on. He was having an affair behind her back, and it was just a matter of time before he left, and so, all she had to do was wait to get precisely what she wanted: the opportunity to divorce him for adultery and end her marriage and go off with Vic without having to suffer the stigma of being branded a depraved adulteress and the endless condemnation, ridicule and gloating of  her father and his family, but she realized at the same time, that he might keep her waiting. Amy might be as sensitive on the subject of being branded an adulteress as she, and so she might want her husband to divorce her, and so she would have to take retaliatory action. She would have to catch her husband and Amy in the act, and employ a private detective and use the evidence against them.
She would have to watch him like a hawk, to find out where their liaisons took place, but say nothing to him at all, to let him know that she suspected anything, or that she was interested in his activities at all, but act as nice as pie to lull him into a false sense of security, in the hope that he might let something slip, as no doubt, in his current over-confident, exhibitionist state of mind, he would.

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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #279 on: August 11, 2010, 09:12 AM »
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Wow George .... steamy stuff for 0900 hrs ...  fainting
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #280 on: August 11, 2010, 01:14 PM »
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Wow George .... steamy stuff for 0900 hrs ...  fainting

Yeah, that Amy gets ya goin' !!  Smile
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #281 on: November 04, 2010, 04:38 PM »
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CHAPTER NINE

NO DEPARTURE

   Vic was in ecstasies. Jill would soon be his. Her husband was going to leave her. All his years of waiting would be over. He couldn't believe his luck. Only three months earlier, he'd thought he would never get her, and had become so depressed that he’d feared he would have to give up on her altogether and try to forget her and start a new life far away in Canada, where his married sister lived, and try to find somebody else, but when he told her how upset he was, instead of her feeling sorry for him and begging him to stay and saying that she wouldn’t be able to cope without him, as he’d hoped, she’d been annoyed and accused him of threatening her, which had made him feel even worse, but then a couple of weeks later he’d had an amazing piece of luck.

   They'd all gone to a Ouija Board session at a friend's house and Jill had tried to show him up by asking the Ouija Board questions about his emigrating, but it hadn’t worked because the Ouija Board had told her that he really was going to emigrate to Canada and marry somebody else, which she hadn’t expected at all, and had even told her the woman’s name, and how many children they would have, which had reduced her to tears, and made it clear to him that she would be upset if he were to emigrate after all, and that if he were to stay, he would be able to persuade her to leave her husband, eventually, and then as if that bit of luck wasn’t amazing enough, two weeks later, he'd had even more.

   He’d caught out her husband sexually assaulting another woman in the back of a taxi, which he’d found completely incredible. It had been whilst they were driving home from a restaurant where they’d all gone out for an evening meal. Jill’s husband and Jill’s sister-in-law, Sandra, and he had ended up sitting side by side in the back of the same taxi, and no sooner had they set off, than Jill’s husband had turned to Sandra, to his right, and put his right arm round her shoulders and tried to kiss her and had even put his left hand up under her skirt, and tried to interfere with her. Vic had never seen anything like it. He hadn't been able to believe it. Nobody had known that Jill’s husband was a sex-maniac before, and he'd realised straightaway that Jill would go mad when she found out, and so he’d egged him on to go even further in the hope of getting him into even more trouble, and then when they’d got back to Jill’s house, he’d gone straight indoors and given her a blow by blow account of everything that had happened, being careful not to leave out the smallest detail, and she’d been absolutely fuming with her husband, just as he’d expected, which he was sure must have greatly increased his chances of persuading her to leave him, and then as if those two bits of luck weren’t amazing enough, two weeks later he’d had even more, which he would never have believed possible in a million years.

They’d actually caught Jill’s husband out having a necking session with another woman out in the street, and he hadn’t even stopped when they’d turned up and caught him at it. It had been absolutely unbelievable.

It had been during a party they’d gone to at a friend’s house. No sooner had they arrived than they’d seen Amy, the hostess, go over to speak to Jill’s husband standing by the front door, and had noticed straightaway from the free and easy manner they’d started to talk and laugh together that they weren’t strangers at all, but were close friends, and then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, they’d noticed from the way they’d gone on to exchange playful little prods and familiar little squeezes, that they weren’t just close friends either, but intimate ones, and then, before they’d had time to get used to that appalling idea they’d seen Jill’s husband put his arm round Amy’s waist, guide her to the front door, open it, and guide her through the doorway out into the street, to walk out on the party altogether, without so much as a bye or leave, so that they could go off together, to find some secluded spot on their own, where they could carry on in secret behind Jill’s back, leaving everybody looking on in amazement, wondering where they’d gone and rushing to the window to find out, whilst Jill and he set off after them in a state of high dudgeon, so that Jill could catch up with her husband, and ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, dumping her at a party to go off with another woman, only to find as soon as they came out through the front door, that he was standing out in the street right in front of them, leaning against the far side of his car, with Amy in his arms, kissing her so passionately that it was perfectly clear that he’d been carrying on with her for months, and then when they finally did catch up with him so that Jill could ask him what he thought he was doing, they found to their shock and horror that he just ignored them and continued to kiss Amy as if they weren’t there, leaving Jill frozen to the spot, looking on like a helpless dummy, making her a complete spectacle in front of the whole neighbourhood, which had made her feel completely stupid, rejected and humiliated, and driven her right round the bend, with the result that now, all she could think about was how to get her revenge by getting the evidence she needed to divorce him for adultery, to show him up to the world for the deceitful, disgusting, obscene, treacherous, depraved adulterer that he was, which, Vic thought from the way he’d carried on with Amy at the party she shouldn’t find very difficult, because it looked as if he wasn’t intending to stay with his wife much longer but was intending to leave her to move in with Amy, when she would get all the evidence she needed.

He couldn't believe how his luck had changed.

Three months earlier he'd thought he was never going to get his beloved, but now it looked as if she’d fallen straight into his lap. It seemed almost too good to be true. The gods really had to be smiling down upon him.

   Jill couldn't look at her husband now without wondering when he'd last been with Amy, and how much of her was still on him, in the form of her perfume, her lipstick or her hair, and what property of hers might still be lingering in his pockets, his briefcase or his car, and when he'd last phoned her, and when she'd last phoned him, and when they’d last met. And she found herself forever sniffing his person and his clothes for signs of her perfume, and searching his pockets, his briefcase and his car for signs of her property and checking the last number dialled and the last number received, for signs of their having phoned each other, only to discover after a month, that she’d still found nothing, leaving her with no option but to follow him when he supposedly went sailing to see if she could catch him and Amy out together, which she and Vic started to do that very weekend, only to discover, after yet another month that she’d still found nothing.

All they’d ever been able to discover when they followed him every Saturday morning was that he drove to Horton Heath, to join the A27 at Hedge End, and then drove down the steep hill through Bursledon to Sarisbury Green to turn off to the right along Barnes Lane to arrive at a small riverside village called Warsash on the east bank of the River Hamble, where he parked his car in the car park opposite "The Rising Sun" and then proceeded to walk next door to the Sailing Club, collect his dinghy, take it to the slip-way, roll it down the slope, float it in the river, clamber aboard, hoist his sails and disappear off down the Hamble, in the direction of Southampton Water, with his sails billowing hugely above his head, leaving them standing in the car park looking completely stupid, defeated and alone.

   'I don't get it,' Jill said in a fury, as they watched him go sailing off into the distance, for the fourth time in succession, ‘when does he see her if he doesn't see her when he goes sailing? He spends all his time going sailing.'

   Vic didn't know, but he'd just had a very nasty idea, which he knew Jill wouldn't be very happy to hear.

   'Do you remember that time we went out sailing with him, last year?' he asked.

   'Yes,' she replied, shortly. She would hardly have forgotten. It had been decidedly hair-raising.’

   'He took us out into the Solent and showed us where all the little beaches were along the eastern shoreline.'

   'Yes,' she said, wondering when he was going to get to the point, ‘they belonged to the small villages along the A27.'

   'Yes,' he said. 'Well, did you notice that some of them had boats on?'

   Jill's heart sank. He didn’t have to say anymore. Now she knew why there was never any trace of Amy on him or in his car, when he came home after seeing her. He didn’t meet her in his car. He met her in his boat which he left on one of those little beaches along the Solent leading up to the small villages off the A27, and then met her in the car-park at the top, in her car, which meant that when he came home afterwards, he sailed back to Warsash first, and got completely wind-blown when all traces of Amy were removed.

She could have screamed with frustration.

   'We'll never catch him out now, will we?’ she yelled in disgust.

   'No,' Vic agreed, feeling equally disgusted, but, not to be beaten, adding, 'but we could try following Amy, instead.'

   'That won’t do any good though, will it?’ Jill replied irritably. ‘We’ll stick out like a sore thumb if we start driving up and down her street, and somebody will be bound to tell her, won’t they, and then we’ll be the ones who get caught out?’

   ‘Right,' Vic agreed ruefully, 'and it probably wouldn’t do any good anyway, because she probably leaves before George, so that she would be gone by the time we got to her house. He probably tells her what time to leave so that we can’t follow her. He’s not stupid. He probably knows we’re trying to catch him out.

   'No he’s definitely not stupid!’ Jill spat out in a fury. ‘He's precisely the opposite. He's too damned crafty for words, but what I don't understand is, why is he so concerned about our seeing him with Amy, now, when he was so unconcerned at the party?’

   'Well he was able to say it was an accident then, wasn’t he?’ Vic pointed out, ‘but he can’t say that now can he?’

   ‘No!’ Jill said, irately, ‘so you know what that means don’t you?’

   ‘No,’ Vic replied, ‘what?’

   ‘He’s trying to stop me divorcing him for adultery.’

   ‘Why would he be bothered about that?’ Vic asked in confusion, ‘Men aren’t worried about such things.’

   ‘Well I don’t know do I?’ Jill replied furiously. ‘But it’s obvious that he is, or he wouldn’t be going to so much trouble to stop us following him, would he? Who’s ever heard of anybody going to meet somebody in a sailing dinghy?’, and then, having been struck by a very nasty thought, added, ‘I suppose he’s trying to protect her!’

‘Protect her from what?’ Vic asked, in even more confusion.

   ‘Protect her from being divorced for adultery too.’ she replied. ‘She’s divorcing her husband for adultery, isn’t she? He’s carrying on with another woman abroad isn’t he, so she doesn’t want him counter-suing her, does she?’

   ‘Oh right,’ Vic said.

   ‘So,’ she concluded vehemently, ‘that means he’s waiting for me to leave him and go off with you, so that he can divorce me for adultery with you, to stop me divorcing him for adultery with her, so that they’ll end up looking whiter than white, and we’ll end up looking blacker than black!’

   ‘Oh right,’ Vic said, thinking what a good idea that would be, but, noting that Jill didn’t seem to agree, adding, sympathetically, ‘but I guess you don’t want that?’

    ‘What? Have him divorce me for adultery when I’m not committing it, and he is! No I don’t!’ she replied in a fury. ‘That would be obscene!’

 ‘Right,’ Vic said, his heart sinking at he saw his hopes of Jill leaving her husband receding fast. It seemed now that she’d decided that she was in a duel with him about who was going to divorce who for adultery; a duel she was determined to win. ‘Well you could try asking him if he wouldn’t mind telling you what his plans are,’ he added weakly, in the vain hope that they might be able to get some concrete information on what was going on, somehow.

   ‘I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction,’ she replied in disgust, ‘and it wouldn’t do any good if I did, because he’d just lie, besides which we already know what his plans are! He’s planning to hide his affair with Amy from me, so that I can’t divorce him for adultery with her, in the hope that I’ll go off with you so that he can divorce me for adultery with you, but I’ve got some bad news for him: it’s not going to happen, because I’m not going to go off with you. I’m going to stay with him and wait for him to slip up with Amy, so that it’ll be me who divorces him for adultery with her.’

   Vic’s heart sank even further.

‘But you could be waiting forever,’ he protested plaintively, ‘we don’t know that he is committing adultery with Amy, do we? We don’t even know if he’s seeing her at all! He may not be and if he isn’t, you’ll be waiting for him to slip up forever, and then we’ll never get together will we, and you don’t want that do you? Wouldn’t it be best for you just to leave him? He’s given you every reason to, hasn’t he? His behaviour has been appalling, hasn’t it? Nobody would blame you if you did, would they? They would blame him.’

   Jill felt sick. She’d only been trying to catch her husband out for two months and Vic wanted her to give up already. She couldn't believe it. All he cared about was himself. He couldn’t care less about her. He wanted her to move in with him and that was all that mattered. It didn’t matter to him that she would be divorced for adultery and be branded a depraved adulteress and become a pariah in the eyes of her family and her friends from the Church, and not only that, she now realized, she would also have to put up with the horrendous sight of her husband being taken over by another woman, and not only that, but to see her home being taken over by another woman too, because she could guarantee that if she were to move out, her husband would immediately move his harlot of a mistress in, which, she was determined to see was also not going to happen, because she wasn’t going to let it, and she couldn’t care less what Vic thought, because he wouldn’t get the chance to think anything, because she wouldn’t tell him. She would just spin him a yarn and string him along, as usual.

   ‘You might be right,’ she said reassuringly. ‘I’ll have to think about it, but we'd better start making tracks now, because I've got the Sunday lunch to get started.’ And they returned to the car and got in and set off on their return journey back up the A27 to Fair Oak and home.

   As the weeks went by, Jill became increasingly irritated to find that she still couldn’t catch her husband out, and, became even more irritated to find that she couldn’t stop Vic complaining, either, until she found herself coming to a paradoxical conclusion. It was occurring to her that the best way for her to avoid being divorced for adultery was to start committing it, which wouldn’t be wrong for her, because she didn’t owe her husband any allegiance because he’d already lost it by betraying her, and so if it was alright for him to have sex with Amy behind her back, then it was alright for her to have sex with Vic behind his, and if she did, it would solve everything, because it would completely blow his mind and knock all thoughts of complaining right out of his head and return him to the adulating and doting slave he once was, as it did, so much so that she was surprised to find that he was unable to perform at first, for being so reverential and so overwhelmed by the honour and the privilege of being allowed to enjoy the unspeakable delights of her sacred bed and her divine body, a privilege he was sure was more than he could ever deserve, and he became so craving and besotted that she thought all her problems were over, until a couple of weeks later, she found she had a new one.

   Having been introduced to the joys of her bed and her body, Vic had become insanely jealous of her husband continuing to enjoy them too, and was complaining bitterly that she would have to start sleeping on her own.

When she tried to explain to him that although her husband might still be sharing her bed, he definitely was not still sharing her body, and hadn’t been for two and a half years, ever since he’d shown her up so badly over Geri, in February 1967, and never would again, and that although he was sharing her bed he definitely did not get any joy out of it, because she was having nothing to do with him, she found him hard to convince.

He kept wittering on about the fact that he couldn’t be trusted, because he was a sex-maniac, as he’d seen from the appalling way he’d molested Sandra in the back of a taxi, a sight so horrendous that it was indelibly etched into his brain forever, and that if he couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands off  a woman in the back of a taxi, when she was wide awake and fully-dressed, who he had no right to touch, and a third party was present, then he certainly couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands off a woman in bed, who was half-naked and asleep, who he had every right to touch, when they were completely on their own together, and when she tried to explain to him that her husband couldn't possibly touch her in bed without her knowledge, because she was a very light sleeper and that in any case he didn’t ever try, (conveniently forgetting the time that he'd tried to slide his erect penis up between her legs from behind, for realising that he would go berserk if he were to find out about that), and that you could drive a coach and horses down the middle of her bed without running over anybody, where they slept so far apart, she found that he still kept wittering on until it got to the point where she started to feel decidedly annoyed at his trying to tell her what to do about her sleeping arrangements because they were rather fraught.

   Her husband was paranoid about sleeping arrangements, because his father had always told him that if a wife didn't want to sleep with her husband then it meant she was sleeping with somebody else, and as his father happened to be dead right in her case, it was the last thing she could afford to suggest, because if her husband were to become suspicious then she was well aware that she would be out of the front door in a flash, but realized that she wouldn’t be able to tell Vic that, because he would be only too pleased to hear it, and start complaining even more, in the hope of encouraging it, and so, decided to tell him the opposite, that if her husband were to become suspicious, then it would be he, who would be out of the front door in a flash, because her husband would ban him from the house, which would make her "last few weeks of living with him”, rather difficult for them, and she couldn’t help laughing to see at how quickly he changed his tune at the thought of losing the joy of sharing her bed and her body himself, and stopped complaining immediately, but at the same time noticed that he became extremely antagonistic towards her husband, which she feared would cause trouble too, especially as they were all due to go off on their annual holiday together in the same car, in two weeks time, with David and Sandra in theirs, touring Wales, and so she had to have words with him about that as well, and tell him that if he couldn’t start being pleasant to her husband then he would have to stay behind, and was relieved to hear him say that he would be sure to be very pleasant to him, although she wouldn’t have been, had she known how impossible he would find it.



 

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MARK

You wrote a novel because you want your life to live on when you die, sort of thing.

You wrote a novel because you want your children to learn the important lessons you've experienced in life.

You wrote a novel because your wife suggested you do it but now she's gone, you have the motivation to do it.

You wrote a novel because you have nothing better to do with your time now.

 


DAISY

If someone keeps a journal - either spiritual or life, it can be extremely therapeutic.  Some people have terribly harrowing times, but find they are completely unable to describe them or talk about them in any way to anyone else.  Writing this down does two things ... it keeps it private and can provide a great relief, especially if the journal keeper is harbouring great feelings of bitterness (say).  So, rather than visit a p-shrink, just write it down.  Additionally, writing down a personal history can be extremely revealing - but only if the journal keeper is honest.  It can put certain things in perspective.  So, it is therapeutic and enables one to move on. 

All of that equals closure .... i.e. closing one chapter and moving on to the next ...

 

Okay .... another answer ..... because George wants revenge ...

George your marketing of this book is IMPECCABLE ..... you are a great salesman ....


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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #282 on: November 04, 2010, 04:59 PM »
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Whew George ...  fainting
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #283 on: November 04, 2010, 05:02 PM »
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Whew George ...  fainting

Yeah, the phewing increases !!  Smile  This is just the mild stuff !!
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Re: Elizabeth Gwen 27.4.70 by George Parker « Reply #284 on: November 09, 2010, 09:12 PM »
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            CHAPTER TEN

            UNHAPPY HOLIDAYS

   Vic was back inside the emotional wringer again. He had thought that when Jill had bestowed upon him the honour and privilege of letting him share her sacred bed and her divine body and given herself to him totally, and finally accepted him as her real husband, all his problems were over, but now he was finding himself feeling overwhelmingly possessive and wanting her divine body all to himself, and was feeling utterly distraught at the thought that she was still sleeping with her nominal husband, who was a sex-maniac who he knew, must be having lewd thoughts about her, as he lay next to her half-naked body in bed, even if he wasn’t interfering with her, as she insisted he wasn’t, although he found that hard to believe, which was making him feel utterly sick and inclined to cut his throat.

He couldn’t work out what her husband was up to. He’d made it perfectly clear at the party that he was in love with another woman, so why wasn’t he being faithful to her and sleeping on his own. Why did he still want to sleep with his wife? And Vic could see only one answer to that question, because it turned him on, which made him feel even more sick and inclined to cut his throat, and then, on top of that, he was now having to put up with the idea of having to spend a week in his company being pleasant to him, as well. Jill had arranged for them all to go on holiday together. He would have backed out of it had he been able but he hadn't for knowing that he wouldn’t be able to cope without seeing his adorable and dearly beloved newly-gained wife, for a week, especially with her otherwise being left to the tender mercies of her predatory, sex-mad husband.

   Jill was greatly looking forward to her week’s holiday in Wales. They were going to have a wonderful time travelling through some of the most beautiful scenery in the country, and visiting some of the most amazing castles as well, as they did, and she was absolutely delighted with the whole week.

It all went perfectly, except for one small incident on the Tuesday morning, which she’d dealt with quite successfully. They’d all gathered at the base of Snowdon, prior to making their ascent, but no sooner had David and Sandra set off, with her husband following a few steps behind, than Vic had taken her by the arm and dragged her to one side behind the shops, where they couldn’t be seen, saying that he had something urgent to tell her, and she’d looked at him in alarm at the thought that there was something seriously wrong, only to hear that the emergency was the sleeping arrangements, and she’d been absolutely fuming. Had she come three hundred miles for a week's holiday in North Wales only to have to listen to Vic wittering on about sleeping arrangements? She didn’t think so.

   The men had slept on their own in a hiking tent on the first two nights, to save money, but on the Monday, it had rained and so they'd had to move inside to join their wives, and Vic was now complaining bitterly that he hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep the night before, because he’d been driven mad by the thought that his adorable and dearly beloved newly-gained wife was on the other side of the wall sleeping with another man who was a sex-maniac. At which point she saw her husband come hoving into view in the distance striding back down the path, looking as black as thunder to find that his wife had sneaked off with Vic behind his back for a private tete a tete, without so much as a bye or leave, and she'd been absolutely fuming, and moving back a few steps so that her husband couldn’t hear her, turned to Vic in a fury and snapped.

   'If you don't like sleeping in the same guest house as me, then the answer is simple. Find another one!', and turned to greet her husband, who had now come up to her, looking daggers drawn, at her subterfuge, but after an hour of chatting him up, she’d managed to calm him down and bring him back to his normal good-humoured self again, after which, Vic had kept his pathetic wittering to himself.

As Vic had expected the holiday had turned out to be a complete disaster. He'd not only had to spend a whole week taking a back seat to Jill's husband literally in his car and metaphorically elsewhere, but had had to listen to his endless and inane chatter as well, which had driven him right round the bend, so much so that on one occasion, when Jill wasn’t there to hear him, he'd completely lost his temper. It had been on the first night when he’d had to share a tent with him and David. Before they’d gone to sleep they'd all told jokes, and Jill’s husband’s joke had been quite funny but he hadn't been satisfied with getting only one laugh, he’d wanted to milk it, and get two, which Vic had found utterly infuriating, because he hadn't wanted to laugh the first time, let alone a second, and so had turned on him in a fury, and snapped contemptuously.

   'OK, it wasn't that funny!', which had shut him up completely and humiliated him entirely, and he’d felt much better after that, but at the end of the week, the roles had been reversed, and it had been he who’d been humiliated entirely.

   They'd stopped off, on their way home, at a small, quaint countryside cafe for tea at a famous beauty spot called Betws-y-Coed and he'd had to use the toilet, which had turned out to be a small, dark, dilapidated outhouse, stuck on the back of the cafe, with decidedly basic facilities, with only a black painted wall against which to urinate and a narrow gutter, and he'd taken the four steps necessary to get to the bottom of the room and had been just about to start performing, when the door had suddenly burst open, and Jill's husband had been standing there, bellowing out a hearty greeting of recognition, and taking up a position just inside the door, which had frightened the wits out him, for filling him with guilt at the thought that he was holding in his hand a suspicious weapon which he’d used in the perpetration of a crime against him, with his wife, and his system had completely seized up, and he'd been left standing there looking completely stupid, in a public toilet, in front of a husband, who, he’d cuckolded, with his offending waterworks in his hand, but with no water coming out of it.

   He'd looked around for a quick means of escape but had found none. His exit was blocked. Jill’s cuckolded husband was standing by the door, making it impossible for him to escape, without brushing up against him, which was the last thing he wanted to do, and so he decided to wait until he left, but then noticed to his horror that there was no sound of flowing water coming from his end of the room, either, which meant that he'd seized up too, and that they had both seized up and were both inhibiting each other, and that neither would be able to perform until the other had left, and that they were now in a duel to see who was going to admit defeat and give up first, with Vic realizing that he would find it much more difficult to escape than his hated enemy, because he would firstly have to walk the four steps back up the room, and would then have to brush up against his hated foe in order to get past him, whereas, all he had to do was turn to open the door and leave, with no encumbrance at all, and so decided to stand his ground and wait for him to leave first, but found to his horror that it was more difficult than he’d thought. The harder he tried to stand stiffly upright with his waterworks in his hand, the more difficult he found it. His head started to spin. His legs started to shake and his knees started to go weak, and he feared he would fall over, and noticing that his hated rival was showing no signs of leaving, himself, realized that he would have to leave while he could still walk upright, because he would look even more stupid, if he were to start staggering, and so, dejectedly tucked his faulty equipment back inside his trousers, turned to his left and shuffled back up the room with his tail between his legs, an object of abject mortification and defeat towards the door and his hated adversary, who, he found, made no effort to get out of his way to let him pass, but remained obstructively where he was, forcing him to press himself up against the ancient, dusty wall to avoid touching him, until he finally managed to squeeze past, open the door, and escape into the blinding sunlight, fresh air and freedom, leaving behind a gloating enemy.

   Vic could quite cheerfully have strangled him and couldn’t wait to wreak his revenge, and help his adorable and dearly beloved newly-gained wife to break free from her vile husband’s evil grasp, and was delighted to see that the opportunity arose sooner than he’d expected. A few weeks later his hated enemy came home from work in the middle of the afternoon in an ambulance after passing out from a virulent fever in his car, and had to go to bed with a high temperature, sweating profusely and suffering from delirious hallucinations which meant that he couldn’t stand his wife sleeping with him that night, causing her to have to sleep on her own in the guest room where he was able to join her, when he was finally able to discover the ineffable joy of ejaculating and consummating their marriage in the hope of making her pregnant to give her the lever she needed to stand up to her vile husband and leave him, only to find to his ineffable joy a couple of weeks later that he’d succeeded and that her period, normally as regular as clockwork, had not appeared, and he hadn't been able to believe it.

His most heartfelt prayers had finally been answered. The Fates had finally dropped into his lap everything he’d ever prayed for. It was the answer to his dreams. How could he be so lucky? He didn't know. It seemed almost too good to be true. He was going to become the happiest husband in the world with the most adorable and most divine wife in the world, and, not only that but was also going to become the happiest father in the world, with the most adorable and most divine baby in the world too.

Jill and he would be married without delay with a special license and an emergency divorce, and then they would have their divine new baby and then they would all live happily ever after. It was a dream come true. It was just like a Fairy Story. It was unbelievable. The gods really had to be smiling down upon him.




 

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The correct answer appears on the last page.

The first person to get the right answer wins the prize.

There is a Clue: on the first page.


Accredited Answers So Far


 


MARK

You wrote a novel because you want your life to live on when you die, sort of thing.

You wrote a novel because you want your children to learn the important lessons you've experienced in life.

You wrote a novel because your wife suggested you do it but now she's gone, you have the motivation to do it.

You wrote a novel because you have nothing better to do with your time now.

 


DAISY

If someone keeps a journal - either spiritual or life, it can be extremely therapeutic.  Some people have terribly harrowing times, but find they are completely unable to describe them or talk about them in any way to anyone else.  Writing this down does two things ... it keeps it private and can provide a great relief, especially if the journal keeper is harbouring great feelings of bitterness (say).  So, rather than visit a p-shrink, just write it down.  Additionally, writing down a personal history can be extremely revealing - but only if the journal keeper is honest.  It can put certain things in perspective.  So, it is therapeutic and enables one to move on. 

All of that equals closure .... i.e. closing one chapter and moving on to the next ...

 

Okay .... another answer ..... because George wants revenge ...

George your marketing of this book is IMPECCABLE ..... you are a great salesman ....


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