Thought for today:
"I have just been looking at my daily diary that my wife Sheila bought me and see that I was due in hospital today for my next blood transfusion, but that has been delayed a week; presumably more to do with a cut back in hospital resources and the doctor's strike than any less need of a transfusion. I am still going into hospital today however, to see the doctor there about this chest infection I have had a month and which will not clear. The good news is that my blood count has improved back to the level it was pre Christmas last.
Were I to use an association word-test with Sheila, I'm pretty sure that the word 'goodness' would be the most prominent association with mention of her name. I have always believed that it's the good girls who bake, keep diaries, and flower arrange, and it's the bad ones who never have time!
Most of of my life, I have been one of life's more willing losers where attractive women have played their games. Often, the more beautiful the woman looked in feature, the worse they were in character. While all my relationships have taught me something about self and others, I have to admit, where good-looking females are concerned, until I passed sixty years of age, it didn't leave me any smarter! Like one of nature's most inept hunters, I kept falling into their traps!
I had to eventually concede that chasing good looks got me nowhere above that of having a good time; they told me nothing about the woman within. Let's face it, nice girls and bad girls don't look any different when one is skinny dipping in the river of exploration! And as to making moral distinctions between the bride that wears the white wedding dress and the one who doesn't, it could be argued that one nice girl is just another bad girl that didn't get caught!
It's a strange fact that while most of us can remember our first girlfriend/ boyfriend or recall our very first kiss, few of us are able to remember the names of all those in between, unless of course they had an impact on our lives. With me, it was always the bad girls who left the best and longest impression; theirs were the names I never forgot.
My contact with the opposite sex throughout my life has given me different things. Some women gave me happiness, some sadness, but all gave me the experience in knowing when I was next in danger of being ensnared by the traps they are known to set when their men folk are looking in the wrong direction.
My first wife had the face of an angel, but she sure as hell wasn't one! Wife number two could be both good and bad and it was this concoction that kept me very happy for the first twenty years of our marriage. Our happy union not only offered me the prospect of heaven, she knew how to take me there.
My third wife, Sheila, caught me off guard in the autumn of my life as I casually strolled through Haworth in the afternoon sun. Armed with a clip board that some market researchers use when getting the public to answer personal questions, she approached me. It was that innocent smile that set the trap, that smile which seems to offer everything, but in fact yields nothing. Over the next five minutes, I honestly answered every question she asked of me and like the wily chess player she is, it was at the end of the evaluation process, she made her master move and checkmated me. She delved into a basket at her side and presented me with one of the buns she'd just baked that morning. I graciously ate it and found it delicious. In fact, 'delicious' is a marked understatement, it was bloody marvellous and quite the best bun I'd ever had, and I told her so. Being a good and most astute woman, Sheila sensed she had come face to face with the best bad boy who'd ever come her way. Without a second thought, she threw her clip board to the ground, flung her arms around me, looked into my eyes and said, 'I'm having you, bad boy!'
Two years later, I allowed myself to fall into the last woman trap to come my way. Having tasted all her delicious wares, and only after she agreed to buy the marriage certificate, I consented to marry her. Sheila and I were married on my next birthday; a device that most forgetful men could well benefit from when it comes to remembering one's wedding anniversary!
With a 14 year age difference (No, I'm the older one), I see Sheila not just as my beautiful wife, but also as my guardian angel who looks after me better than any other woman ever has. I know that she sees me in all my jolliness and probably thinks of me as the Santa who is always up and down her chimney. In fact, if she does see me as 'Santa', it's not because I'm rotund, positive, generous, cheerful and jolly whatever the weather, but because I can fill the nicest stockings and know all the addresses of where the bad girls live!" William Forde: April 27th, 2016
"I have just been looking at my daily diary that my wife Sheila bought me and see that I was due in hospital today for my next blood transfusion, but that has been delayed a week; presumably more to do with a cut back in hospital resources and the doctor's strike than any less need of a transfusion. I am still going into hospital today however, to see the doctor there about this chest infection I have had a month and which will not clear. The good news is that my blood count has improved back to the level it was pre Christmas last.
Were I to use an association word-test with Sheila, I'm pretty sure that the word 'goodness' would be the most prominent association with mention of her name. I have always believed that it's the good girls who bake, keep diaries, and flower arrange, and it's the bad ones who never have time!
Most of of my life, I have been one of life's more willing losers where attractive women have played their games. Often, the more beautiful the woman looked in feature, the worse they were in character. While all my relationships have taught me something about self and others, I have to admit, where good-looking females are concerned, until I passed sixty years of age, it didn't leave me any smarter! Like one of nature's most inept hunters, I kept falling into their traps!
I had to eventually concede that chasing good looks got me nowhere above that of having a good time; they told me nothing about the woman within. Let's face it, nice girls and bad girls don't look any different when one is skinny dipping in the river of exploration! And as to making moral distinctions between the bride that wears the white wedding dress and the one who doesn't, it could be argued that one nice girl is just another bad girl that didn't get caught!
It's a strange fact that while most of us can remember our first girlfriend/ boyfriend or recall our very first kiss, few of us are able to remember the names of all those in between, unless of course they had an impact on our lives. With me, it was always the bad girls who left the best and longest impression; theirs were the names I never forgot.
My contact with the opposite sex throughout my life has given me different things. Some women gave me happiness, some sadness, but all gave me the experience in knowing when I was next in danger of being ensnared by the traps they are known to set when their men folk are looking in the wrong direction.
My first wife had the face of an angel, but she sure as hell wasn't one! Wife number two could be both good and bad and it was this concoction that kept me very happy for the first twenty years of our marriage. Our happy union not only offered me the prospect of heaven, she knew how to take me there.
My third wife, Sheila, caught me off guard in the autumn of my life as I casually strolled through Haworth in the afternoon sun. Armed with a clip board that some market researchers use when getting the public to answer personal questions, she approached me. It was that innocent smile that set the trap, that smile which seems to offer everything, but in fact yields nothing. Over the next five minutes, I honestly answered every question she asked of me and like the wily chess player she is, it was at the end of the evaluation process, she made her master move and checkmated me. She delved into a basket at her side and presented me with one of the buns she'd just baked that morning. I graciously ate it and found it delicious. In fact, 'delicious' is a marked understatement, it was bloody marvellous and quite the best bun I'd ever had, and I told her so. Being a good and most astute woman, Sheila sensed she had come face to face with the best bad boy who'd ever come her way. Without a second thought, she threw her clip board to the ground, flung her arms around me, looked into my eyes and said, 'I'm having you, bad boy!'
Two years later, I allowed myself to fall into the last woman trap to come my way. Having tasted all her delicious wares, and only after she agreed to buy the marriage certificate, I consented to marry her. Sheila and I were married on my next birthday; a device that most forgetful men could well benefit from when it comes to remembering one's wedding anniversary!
With a 14 year age difference (No, I'm the older one), I see Sheila not just as my beautiful wife, but also as my guardian angel who looks after me better than any other woman ever has. I know that she sees me in all my jolliness and probably thinks of me as the Santa who is always up and down her chimney. In fact, if she does see me as 'Santa', it's not because I'm rotund, positive, generous, cheerful and jolly whatever the weather, but because I can fill the nicest stockings and know all the addresses of where the bad girls live!" William Forde: April 27th, 2016
