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| amateur, movie, newcitynet, juvenile literature, mother son, outrageous, babes, mom and son, used books psychology, allabout my mother, gay incest., mother quotations, sexand the septuagenarians, actresses, freegroup sex gallery, supermodels, survivingmy mother, | Fuck off, it says over the films lintel, so I generally do. I don't belong in films this village at all. films Actually, I don't know where I do belong. Another planet, maybe. *** So there I was, on my back, entirely naked and rigid as a corpse, when Nan totters into my bedroom and says to Paul, “A horse has just gone past the landing window.” “Which way did it go?” asks Paul. “Which way did it go?” I said later. “What are you, mad too?” “I was only trying to make conversation.” He shrugged his bony shoulders under the sheets. “What's up with her? Is she mental, like?” “No more than a lot of people,” I said, a bit sharply. I get defensive about her, even though she is a nuisance. “Some days she's more with it than me. She's just old. You might be like that when you're old.” “I'd shoot myself first.” “No, you wouldn't. That's what everyone says, but they wouldn't.” |
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| Then there are the semi-detached duplexes built in the thirties as public housing, where dogs roam free and shit on the pavement with impunity. This is where we live. We bought our house in the boom of '84 (also Divorce Year), and my mother celebrated by having a Georgian front door sexand the septuagenarians fitted and mock leaded lights on the windows. The front storage room, upstairs which is my bedroom and minute, looks out over the Working Men's Club parking lot; some odd things go on there on a Saturday night, I can tell you. In the center sexand the septuagenarians of the village sexand the septuagenarians is the church and the community center and a rubbish row of shops, a newsstand, a launderette, a grocery store. Two pubs, more or less opposite each other, battle it out, but one is for old people and families from the new neighborhoods with quiz nights and chicken tikka pizza, and the other's rough as rats. I don't go in either. For kicks, I get the bus to Wigan from a bus shelter smelling of pee. |
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