Warning to readers posted stories that are several another web site so thought I’d take to right here.

Still early days for my writing but as with most of my stories that one is pretty darn slow and wordy so be warned. Then you will probably know what I mean if you have read any of my other tales. We don’t write quickie wham, bam thank you mam stuff. We try to compose with a specific component of realism about circumstances of the nature that is non-consensual. This time the concept was to type of play around with contrasts in a story that is one-off. Maybe it worked and maybe maybe not.

Such a kind woman that is nice

Porridge she decided. She’d seemed out of the r m window, while the climate was distinctly blustery. Cold most likely at this time associated with 12 months with that wind shaking the trees and bushes but fortunately not damp. Chilly certainly but wet, no. Grey however the forecast yesterday evening had not mentioned any rainfall.

Porridge she reaffirmed l king of this kitchen screen. Yes, undoubtedly a porridge day, one thing old-fashioned, warming and nutritious for the insides. None of this contemporary bran or yoghurt muck or even worse ‘breakfast biscuits.

Porridge plus some bacon and eggs and she could complete down those mushr ms that had been in the refrigerator each day approximately much longer than was great for them and few nice thick slices of wholemeal brown toast. G d sized pieces cut from the loaf having a proper breadknife, no convenient pre-sliced loaves on her. Convenience. Just How lazy people were these days.

Rush, rush rush, inside and you can try here out of this supermarkets making use of their laden trolleys, their cellophane and plastic wrapped ‘bargains’ foisted upon them no matter whether that wanted them or perhaps not, half of which will end up in the bin probably then they’d be off once again, rush, rush, rush.

Mrs Mason had been a girl who preferred to just take her time. She detested haste and rush. ‘Mush and waste’ had been the result of that. Whenever she went shopping it had been always to appropriate stores, greengrocers, butchers and bakers. Yes, the supermarket was helpful but strictly on her terms. Impulse buying wasn’t even a term she underst d.

Ten minutes later she waived Mr Mason to their chair during the table who was simply straight away joined by their twelve-year-old child and son that is eight-year-old.

“Hands?” she stated flatly.

Both children held down their arms for her examination palm up, therefore did Mr Mason. “Don’t be silly dear” she chided

Mr Mason winked at their children; it was the exact same routine before every dinner. Mrs Mason had been really fastidious about individual hygiene, in which he considered that his occasional joining in added an impression of light relief to your ritual.

All of them sat quietly along with their hands clasped together for the solemn moment while Mrs Mason thanked the Lord for what ended up being them all of how lucky they were to have such bounties while p r children were starving in Africa before them and reminded. A plea to that exact same deity to protect all of them through the perils of the time preceded the obligatory chorus of “Amen’s”.

Mrs Mason was a c k that is excellent spurned nearly within their entirety the huge selection of ‘ready or convenience services and products available these days. Her porridge was totally homemade, hot, delicious using the pinch that is traditional of and lashings of hot milk. No sugar. Mrs Mason did not accept of excess levels of sugar.

Porridge had been followed by plates of bacon, egg (poached not fried) and grilled mushr ms. Really delicious. Toast and cut that is thick from the regional farm store that had provided the eggs and mushr ms.

“Excellent” pronounced Mr Mason as he placed their blade and fork within the obligatory ‘finished’ position on their empty dish. He constantly did say that or other word that is similar phrase of commendation. He had been really happy with their wife’s skills in the home.

He was really proud of their wife entirely. He smiled throughout the table at her she smiled fondly back as he neatly folded his starched linen napkin and. Mrs Mason was not by any means the sort of woman who does have stimulated those ‘erotic’ fantasies he’d had as he was a teenager and man that is young. The sort of glossy feminine who featured in those ‘dirty’ magazines at the newsagents which he had periodically bought.

Those full-bosomed lithesome creatures which had tempted him so alluringly from their lofty shelf that is top but intended which he had to cycle over to the next neighbourh d but one. a shop where no body would understand him, make their purchase then sneak their treasure home where it could ultimately locate a resting place in the space beneath his bedr m wardrobe with the rest of their tiny collection.

Of course, making this kind of purchase was extremely determined by simply who happened to be serving within the store. As s n as he recalled having to wait nearly an hour ahead of the gentleman whom owned the establishment showed up, and he could avoid the female assistants while making less embarrassment to his purchase. That had been a particular case because he’d become so enamoured associated with model on the address and didn’t desire to risk locating the issue unavailable at a later date. Usually, whenever circumstances thwarted their desired purchase, he’d buy a packet of wine gums and decide to try his fortune another day.

Mrs Mason was extremely not really associated with the shelf that is‘top variety. So far as he knew, her face had never ever been moved by the slightest hint of ‘gloss’. Mrs Mason disapproved of makeup and ‘painted harlots’. Any girl using even a modicum of lipstick ended up being liable to be designated a painted harlot by Mrs Mason.

Within the very early days of their wedding, Mr Mason had wished more often than once that perhaps Mrs Mason might…might kind of glam up a little. Possibly only a smidgen of powder and paint, a touch of frilly lace, possibly even a sexy couple of heels. No, don’t assume all day’s course…but possibly simply possibly, on the odd occasion.

That were wishful thinking. Mrs Mason remained ever faithful to her simple skirts and cardigans, w lly vests, sensible flats and her plain face that is round a ‘gloss’ free zone.

Mr Mason had once, way back when now, contemplated the traditional negligee’ that is‘frilly being a xmas present. He’d also selected ab muscles one into the lingerie portion of a big, well-known department store that is high-street. That outing had tried both their patience and his courage. No possibility of obtaining a gentleman countertop hand there, maybe if an older girl was in fact available in place of those ones that are young he may have succeeded.

However maybe not. Secretly, deep down even if he had bought that frilly clear item, it might not have joined the rest of the gift suggestions beneath the Christmas time nativity scene. They never ever had a tree – (pagan Mrs Mason called them). Their courage would have failed him so the inevitable b k, sensible cardigan and scarf had taken its place.