Passion by an Amsterdam canal!

Bertram smiled and gave Gertrude a hug, which turned into a kiss. It was a long, lingering kiss where tongues probed and palms wandered. They broke off after a while if only to draw breath. He turned around and leaned on the railing to take in the view up and down the canal. There was a slight scuffle behind him but he thought nothing of it, as he was certain that no one had followed them down the stone steps.

Continue reading Passion by an Amsterdam canal!

Feeling peckish?

“Bertie dear, I’m very hungry,” she said.

“That’s the munchies kicking in,” said Bertram. “If you like we could go back to the falafel bar or I noticed a valamse fritte takeaway just down the way. We could call in there and get some chips (fries) with salad cream on them. I know that I could do with another drink of fizzy pop or something. My throat is as dry as a sand lizard’s socks.”

“You used to say that when we went out together!” said Gertrude. “It was always your excuse to get into the nearest pub. What I want to know is, how you know just how dry a sand lizard’s socks are?”

“Ah, well, that is down to me knowing the ancient lore of the Aboriginal bush men. I learned that from that outdoor survival chappie, Ray Mears, in person… while he was on the telly.”

Gertrude laughed. “That chubby little bugger Ray Mears was just a child when we were together, you blighter! What’s more, if he lives on roots and grubs like he says he does, why is he so rotund?”

“Ah yes…. Of course… Here we get to the nub of the matter,” giggled Bertram. “Did you know that whenever he sets up camp in the wilds, if you turn the camera around one hundred and eighty degrees, it will be pointing straight at a McDonalds? It’s a little known fact…”

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“Eating chillies before rumpy-pumpy?”

Gertrude ordered two falafels in pitta bread with salad from the self-service salad bar, along with a couple of 7Ups. Bertram paid the guy serving behind the bar and filled his falafelled pitta with pickled cucumbers, hummus and chillies before sitting down and realising that he might have made a mistake and a great big one to boot. If he planned to do any smooching later that night, pickles and chillies were a good way of putting a stop to it. The chillies alone could turn oral sex into aural sex, as pleading for it would be as near to getting it as Bertram could aspire. As it turned out, he need not have worried as Gertrude had filled her pitta with pickled garlic, chillies and salsa. She smiled knowingly when she saw Bertram glance at her snack, then at his own, and finally, look relieved.

“I erm… see that our tastes have not changed since we were together. I thought that I’d dropped a right royal bloomer then,” said Bertram.

“No, it’s okay with me if you eat chillies, Bertie. Just make sure that you use your toothbrush before you do anything personal for me again.”

Bertram, shocked by her forthrightness, spluttered some pickled cucumber onto the jacket of a Frenchman sitting near him but thought better of drawing attention to it and continued to munch his pitta. After all, it was only a Frenchman and as the jacket was green in colour, the mess was barely noticeable from more than twenty yards away.

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Another snippet

Bertram dressed, selecting his best sleeveless cardigan, the Fair Isle one with the real leather buttons. On previous wearings it had made women fall at his feet! Sadly, what Bertram hadn’t noticed was that the women were all turning away from him with a look of horror on their faces as they fell. 

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A snippet from Bertram & Gertrude’s Steamy Amsterdam Weekend

He knew that the apartment he’d borrowed for the weekend was only a half hour’s walk away and that whether he took a taxi or walked, he was going to need a shower and a change of clothes before he met her, his ex-girlfriend and the reason for this trip. He had not seen her for twenty five years and his stomach churned with butterflies at the thought of meeting up again.

“What is going to happen? Am I wasting my time? Does she regret taking the teaching job in Istanbul all those years back? Would she forgive me the unfortunate incident over the unwrapped Oxo® Cubes I’d left, rather pathetically, in her sponge bag?”  Apparently Turkish Customs and Excise had detained her for several hours when they found them. “Will we get on after this enforced break? Will she want my body? What on earth will she do with it? And why am I asking myself daft questions out loud in public like this?”

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