Fisherwomen's tales

God, these summer holidays are dragging on a bit. Aren't they? I mean, I love my sons and everything but after a day as Camp Ents Officer, by the time evening comes around I'm too exhausted to even think about coming up with original thought to put on the blog. So I am - as you may have noticed - grasping for inspiration wherever I can find it.

Luckily for me there are loads of great bloggers out there with far more interesting stuff to say than I have, and today's shot in the arm came to me courtesy of the fantastic Troutie (who's been featured on The Potty Diaries before as British Mummy Blogger of the Week). Today she posted about having possibly her last pre-arrival of 2nd baby massage, and this put me in mind of a story told to me by a very good friend about what happened to her husband once on holiday.

At the time they were in the middle of an impossibly romantic and glamorous trans-continental relationship. He was living in Australia, and she was in London. They used to meet in fabulous places and 'catch-up' (if you know what I mean). On this particular holiday, they met at a well known spa in Thailand; and during the holiday my friend S found out to her horror that her unreconstructed bloke of a beloved had never had a massage. As a special treat, she arranged for him to have one, and decided to have one herself at the same time.

They duly went in for their relaxing experiences. As they came out, she asked him what he thought of it. "All right" he replied. "But my legs got very tired."

S was confused. "Your legs? What do you mean?"

"Well, you know. They were hanging off the end of the table. I had to keep them straight, and it wasn't that comfortable, to tell the truth..."

S questioned him more closely. And let's just say, never having had a massage before, he hadn't realised that the hole at the top of the table was for your face. He thought it was a receptacle for... something else. God only knows what the poor masseuse thought when she came in to find him lying there completely the wrong way around, but she chose not to correct him and so consequently he spent the whole 40-odd minutes lying half on, half off the table, holding on for all he was worth, trying to keep his legs straight....

Men, eh?