Next stop…Languedoc

As I write, I’m sitting in a enormous garden, surrounded by apple, plum and pear trees, a pool, hammocks and a three legged dog. I’ve arrived in Languedoc for my volunteering. But, before I start, at Bogspua’s request, here are some photos I took in Monaco. 

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So, after the splendour of Monaco, I’m now in the countryside. After arriving in Nimes on the train, I went to catch a bus to meet my host. Except, because the train was late, I missed the bus by two minutes. No problem, I’ll jump in a taxi – the next bus wasn’t for an hour and my host would be at the bus stop to meet me. Sitting in the taxi, we soon caught up to the sodding bus and since there were no stops betwen Nimes and my destination, I sat watching the meter run while the bus passengers sat having paid only 1.5euros for the trip. Oh, the irony. When I finally arrived, I had to stop at the cash machine to pay the driver. Only, the cash machine wasn’t working. Nor was the next one, or the next. After running around the town, I finally found a working machine, paid the driver and jumped into my hosts car, apologising profusely for the delay. Not the best of starts. Oh well.

In any event, she’s lovely and as she drove us to her house, I sat back and took in the scenery.

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The downside? Spiders. Fuck me, the spiders. One as big as my palm jumped out of the sink at me. I’ve been attached to the hoover since I got here, I must have sucked up around 70 in the 2.5 days I’ve been here! But it’s been ace so far. I’ve helped change over the gite in preparation for their next guests, got my fingers green by doing a spot of gardening, picking fruits to make into jam, and prepared dinner using the many, many vegetables growing outside. Earlier, I took a walk and explored the local countryside with my host’s three legged dog. He’s an absolute peach, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so relaxed with just the sound of the breeze in the trees and horses whinnying in the fields around me. Sigh.

It’s quite busy here though. Lots of friends coming and going (all of whom are lovely) and my host’s daughter is here from Australia. Her husband and 3 friends are coming at the weekend for 2 weeks, and there’ll be a massive garden party to celebrate their wedding.

I’m looking forward to it. The characters around here are colourful to say the least. A bit eccentric, tattoos, piercings, not at all what I would have expected. As is my host. The first morning here I woke up and could have sworn blind I smelled mary jane. But of course not, that would be silly right? Erm, no. I swear she smokes about 3 joints a day and has a huge amount of if in the garden. Like I say, she’s pretty cool. But the work is hard. I’m dog tired writing this right now, albeit happy.

xx

 

 

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It’s Cougar Town…

What’s with the current explosion of cute looking guys on my TV and why are they all so bloody young? Or is it that I’m getting old? I was watching Hollyoaks earlier and sighing over the beautiful, brooding Callum played by Laurie Duncan. Imagine my surprise to realise he’s only 20. 20!! Practically a baby, which is a shame as he has probably the most kissable lips I’ve ever seen. Or cheeky Eastenders chappy, Tyler Moon played by Tony Discipine who is sadly only 23. Swoon. If they were a few years older, I so would.

Hollyoaks' Callum (Laurie Duncan)

Eastenders' Tyler Moon (Tony Discipline)

I’m not a One Directioner or whatever their fans call themselves, that’s going a little too young for me. I mean, thirty-something women lusting after 17 year old boys seems a bit off. If it were the other way round, people would be up in arms screaming ‘paedo’ in their faces. Which leads me to think, what’s my age cut off? My mild dalliance last year (as referred to in my ‘Take a Hint!’ post) was 24 years old and seemingly mature. I didn’t have a problem with it at first – age is nothing but a number according to the late great Aaliyah. Or is it?

I normally go for men who are a few years older, if not the same age, because they have a little life experience. They’ve done the twenties thing and can tend to hold a conversation. My issue with younger men is that they can get really clingy and, more importantly, no matter how much they’ve ‘lived’, there’s a whole lot more ‘living’ to do. My dalliance last year, we’ll call him Mr Clingy, had done the sleeping around in droves. My number is a mere 5. His – high 50’s. Shocking, I know. He’d done the binge drinking to the point of almost killing his liver. He was at the age where he ‘thought’ he wanted to settle down. On paper, this was good. He was sweet, he was sensitive.

And yet…

He had no real life experience. He was still studying and had never had a real, grown up job. In fact, he’d told me he admired me because I had a real, grown up job. He was living on his parents money – study money, rent money, spending money, everything, and this bothered me. And, one thing I’ve learnt from my last relationship is that the saying ‘people change’ is very true indeed. I’ve spent every year of my twenties in a relationship and even though I loved my ex with a sometimes incomprehensible passion, I can see how much we both changed. Your twenties should be the time you make your mistakes. You sleep with unsuitable people, you get stupid drunk, you travel, you gather life experiences. I don’t want to be with someone who’s going through these life changes now. I want to be with someone who’s already done it. Can you really see me  out in some high street getting pissed off my nut with  a bunch of 20 year olds? No thank you. And yes, I am hypocritical because there’s a ton of things I never got the chance to do until now, but that’s not the point.

I don’t understand the sudden increased popularity for all things cougar related. In my experience, sex with a young ‘un isn’t even that great. Call me deluded but I’d rather have technique over stamina any day. So, while I can appreciate the influx of hot young eye candy, I’d rather go for someone a little more worldly.