Sunday, 5 January 2014

Memoirs of a saucy stone-carver


The boy came round last night and wanted to sort through boxes of old photos. We recently gave him our old 35mm Olympus camera, and it has been hanging round his neck ever since. Born in an age of highly convenient, digital imagery, he has embraced the old-school in a big way.

He actually got dusty by sorting through my old work records, and was most impressed when I told him that a lion-mask stone fountain in one photo was made for Gary Lineker, who came to pick it up from me at my workshop.

I went round to the Lineker's residence in Berkshire once, to discuss the making of a stone sink for their little downstairs lavatory in the hall of their large house.

The extremely beautiful and petite Michelle took me to the tiny cubicle, and the space was so cramped that I had to shut the door behind us as she sat on the toilet to talk about the project. It was a very surreal - and quite exciting - event. There I was, shut in the bog with Michelle Lineker, trying to discuss work as I fantasised about the door getting jammed for a few hours, which would probably not have been enough time to convince her to pass it - after we had finalised the sink details - in an amorous embrace whilst we waited for the Berkshire Fire Service to turn up.

These site visits quite often present opportunities for unreal fantasies, which are only ways to alleviate the boredom of the business in hand.

I once went round to a famous woman writer's house (you would know of her) and she graciously gave me a tour of it, halfway through the renovations. As she lead me through into the house, I could not help but admire her ample and well-formed backside, and tried to think of ways to get another glimpse of it without her noticing me doing so and calling the police. It was almost as if she had read my mind.

She suggested that we go up the huge wooden staircase to take a look at the upper floors, then bade me to follow.

Halfway across the staircase was a large run of very low scaffold which we had to bend almost double to get under. I found myself inching my way up the steps with my face about 3 inches away from her arse, and that is an image which was burned so deeply into my memory that I can still see it now, all these years later.

These reminiscences may seem to you like the flimsy plot in the opening sequences of extremely basic porn movies but, unlike the movies, that is as far as it ever got. I seem to remember that the meter never got read or the plumbing never got fixed in those films, whereas I always came up with the goods.

There was a wonderful 'Candid Camera' episode once, and it involved a real television engineer (actually about 5 of them) being called to a suburban house to fix a faulty T.V.

The engineer would ring on the doorbell, and the door would be opened by a good looking - if slightly desperate - woman in a flimsy negligee.

She showed the man in a boiler-suit the large T.V. in the living room, and he turned it on to find nothing wrong with it.

The woman then explained that she was just lonely, and needed some male company, because her husband was an unfeeling brute who treated her very badly. She would - at some point - tell the engineer that her husband was a formidable martial-arts expert, and the engineer would express his sympathy whilst trying to think of ways to leave.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the front door being violently opened, and the woman hissed at the engineer that this was her husband unexpectedly returning and he should hide behind the large curtain of the French windows.

Then the six-foot five figure of Jonathan Routh stormed into the room and demanded to know why the curtain was closed during the day time. She made some sort of poor excuse, then the man marched up to the curtain, pulling it open and exposing the cowering T.V. engineer.

When asked what the hell he was doing in the house, the engineer explained that he was only there to fix the T.V. After asking why he was hiding behind the curtain then, Routh strode over to the T.V. and turned it on.

By this time, the engineer was a gibbering wreck and expecting the worst.

One of the poor stooges actually climbed out through a small, upper window and fell to the patio outside, just to escape Routh.

The only one to refuse to hide was the oldest - a man close to retirement who did not see that he had done anything to be ashamed or fearful of, and who just stood his ground in front of Routh until the camera was pointed out to him.

Sadly, I am that elderly technician these days.

29 comments:

  1. Oh I don't know....
    I suspect you are a terrible flirt
    When the wind is in the right direction

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    1. Maybe, but I am well past the days when it would get me into any trouble worth getting into.

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    2. I now have fartrogen involved in my vision of your amorous encounter in the lavatory with Michelle L now and it's not pretty.

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    1. For a 'spiritual' person, you are one of the most unthinkingly basic people I have ever encountered, Heron.

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    2. That should give him a fright.

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  3. You came off great. I can't say the same for the guy who jumped out the window. Hopefully that episode is not still haunting him to this day.

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    1. I didn't come off at all - that was the disappointing aspect to this story.

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    3. Well yeah but this way you had a story. The other, all you could have said was I once had cliche sex.

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    4. Heron .....you are an arsehole

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    5. All Heron does is reinforce my notion that all self-appointed 'Druids' live in a fantasy world which makes mine look like a rather boring factual documentary. It would be so much more entertaining if they showed any sign of a sense of humour at all, though. Oh well, they give us all a good laugh around the Solstice, so I shouldn't be too HARD ON them.

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    6. There are various applications for hard, i.e., hard on, hard up, hard pressed, hard-to-get, hard-to-hold. Once I had a machine that was used for hardness testing. There is such a thing as an item being too hard.

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  4. Have you heard the one about the Englishman, the Irishman, and the Welshman?

    Nor have I!

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    1. Don't be so hard on yourself.

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    2. I go all soft when I think of Heron, now that Maggie Thatcher's dead.

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  6. I have never understood men's fascination with womens' rear ends? Could you explain it to me?

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    1. It's a spiritual thing - ask Kim Kardashian. Better still, ask Heron.

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    2. Nice use of the apostrophe, btw.

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  7. Sorry I didn't read any of this post. Ignore the druid is all I can say. Happy new year Tom x

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    1. It would have been quicker to read the post, then ignore the comments, Sarah. I see you have been getting some attention too recently. Sorry - I should ignore him over at yours, at least. Happy New Year to you too. X

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  8. It looks as though Heron has finally sobered up.

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