28 March 2015

Welcome back, and thank you again for all your support.  I'm sorry it's taken so long, but after much soul-searching (and under the advice of Counsel), I have concluded that most of you are correct, and that I have in fact blundered quite badly. 

            I promise I shall never again mention a certain name, and under legal stricture I am afraid I have reluctantly been forced to erase all my previous Blogs.  Apologies.  But let's try to muddle through this, shall we?  Now, where were we ... ?  Ohhh, yes.

            Those who have followed me from the beginning might recall that I grew up in Suffolk County (England) in the 1960s, during the "British Invasion" years (you're welcome, America).  This was also the time when so many of the UK's Youth schismed  into "Mods" or "Rockers".

            As I also wrote so very long ago, I was spared such trivialities.  Being that ours was one of the great Military Equestrian Centres of the World, and that my Father was not just "Dad" but "Sir Edmund", I found myself consorting not only with the Farm Hands, but with Generals.

            Our Mum, "Lady Susan", made sure my Sister and I understood that we had not only been tasked with all the burdens of Nobility – but must always keep the "common touch".

            It never ended.  Years of Public ("Private") Schools and a serious dedication to "duty" meant that even whilst our Family participated in various worldwide Summer Equestrian activities, my Sister and I were safely ensconced at home with Nanny and the Farm Workers.    

            It wasn't bad, of course – and in truth the Summers (and the Holidays) were glorious. 

I have since been around the World several times, and I can assure you that there are few places more beautiful than rural England, at any time of year.

            In a roundabout way, this even explains how I became so adept in sexual matters.

            Those of you who grew up on large animal farms will realise that sex is a substantial part of Farm Life.  (Think: without sex, there would be no Farm Animals).  Neither is this sex quiet, nor private, nor discrete.  Two horses "going at it" can be heard from the next Farm over, and when a Bull shows an untoward interest in a Cow, you'd really best be somewhere else.

            Since we were "typically British", I learnt about "the birds and the bees" literally from

 the birds and the bees – and the horses.  I had long since noticed a Gelding mounting a Mare out  in the fields.  (I needn't tell you what he looked like when aroused.)  How curious, I thought. 

            I could not imagine why they were "wrestling".  I was 13 before I found out.   Mum took

me aside to have "the talk", citing the horses as an example.  She said they were "having sex".  

            I learnt that even though he is not subject to the same frantic desires of a Stallion, a Gelding thinks that sex feels just delicious, thank you.  And any Mare "in Heat" thinks the same.  Mum did not tell me why they enjoyed it so much.  It would take me years to understand ...