I bet he wouldn't want an ipod!
it's a bit weird seeing an ad for one folowing my last piece.

I'm not sure how these ads work. When I wrote about counselling a series of ads for counselling services and stuff on recovering from abuse appeared. I then wrote a disclaimer but ads were not visible on main page - Only appeared when I was proof-reading. So it may have been only meant for me(?!) or meant for everyone BUT me and visible to others but not visible to me anymore...Confused? I am!

Anyway any ads that do or don't appear are nothing to do with me. And if you really want to know about ipods and ad has disappeared - that's life!

I've just had quick proofread and ads are all about safety! They may or may not be visible to you....

...the joy of free blogging!

pps And on second viewing we're back to recovering from abuse and alcohol!!!

A couple of smartly dressed men called on me on Sunday and reassured me that they were not trying to convert me but were interested in my views. As usual they became slightly confused and glazed when I agreed that things were pretty bad with the world, but I was a very happy atheist and did not have a 'god-shaped hole' in my life. They tried earnestly to convince me that it was obvious and scientifically sound that life could not be merely random when the arrival of my family for lunch brought discussion to end.

My sister darkly warned that having admitted to being an ex-Catholic would result in a special leaflet to convert Catholics if they were witnesses. She felt aggrieved at idea of being harassed in one's own home. I had some sympathy with my callers. I believe in religious choice and don't like to be subject to others' conversion attempts, but can see that if you think that you can save souls it must be difficult not to do so.

My sister was far more robust about it. She hated the way politeness makes one a prisoner when 'invaded' at home. She suddenly declared that "Jesus didn't doorstep!" She is of course quite right. She also came up with quote about being bid to shake the sand off one's sandals and pointed out that Jesus only entered houses where he was invited. And that he delivered sermons in public places. We decided Jesus was actually pretty sound.

....Or the randomness of alphabeticised lists
....Or the joy of tags!
Very amused by the above tag bedfellows. I feel I should be writing a Russian novel or a Freudian treatise...

I notice that if I do a search on Cardiff under 'Popular Cities'I'm not listed. Does anyone know how to get listed? Or is it that I only get other bloggers? I did put Cardiff in my profile.

I have been inspired by Bored Selecta on the subject of daps, but didn't want to hog his blog, so am writing about it here.

As well as Degree Awarding Powers, daps are actually plimsolls, pumps, tennis shoes etc and was, I suppose, a dialect word for such footwear in the pre-trainer days. I don't think there is a Welsh laguage connection, but would be interested if there were. A recent BBC survey into accent and words showed the fabulous variety of language that still exists.

I once got very excited about actually knowing a word on 'Call My Bluff'. It was 'gambo' and apparently it is a West Country term for a cart. In my bit of South Wales it was a cart that is traditionally made by children. I've been told it is known as a bogey in Cardiff and I think it's just a go-cart in many places.

Many years ago as well as collecting children's literature the Opies researched and collected children's lore and language and looked at regional differences. As a child I was fascinated by the fact children in books played 'tag' but I played 'touch'. The stuff on playground rhymes and belief is equally fascinating.

Who remembers: 'Touch collar, touch toes, hope I never go in one of those...'

And did anyone else play a game with the fabulous rhyme:'Om, pom-pee and a Lousianna, My black cat can play the piana...'?!

And back to daps! I have no experience of daps other than having worn them, but I have written about them....

Again, Caroline performed her long-legged laid-back swagger to the bench; now clear of Spike’s neatly sorted pictures and paraphernalia. She leaned nonchalantly against the sturdy table, smiled and raised her eyebrows as Spike grinned back; then equally casually sauntered out of the room…
Oh, hell! What was a fucking dap when it was at home? Now that Spike was out of the room Caroline’s smile felt like a death rictus as she fearfully contemplated her unknown in detail, but otherwise sealed fate. She was glad of the table behind her as her legs went weak and she leaned her bottom against the comfort of the wood, safe in its protection at least until Spike’s return.
His casual but suspiciously speedy return was greeted by an apparently relaxed and slightly bored Caroline casually leaning against the workbench where he’d left her. He was not fooled. The slight tremble to her lip and the flush of her gorgeously restricted but displayed breasts denoted excitement or fear. He was happy to take either or both. He was amused by her double take at the old-fashioned black plimsoll in his hand.
“What were you expecting?” he asked unable and unwilling to hide his amusement. Didn’t you know I had a Welsh upbringing? This, sweet Caroline, is a dap. It was used on naughty children in Welsh schools when you were a girl. This is your chance to test its efficacy, sweetheart.”
How dare he! The nerve of the man! Caroline’s fury at his familiarity mingled with relief as she viewed the ‘dap’. After years of horse riding she wasn’t scared of that thing! As her smile bid him to do his worst her relief was short-lived as she realised that he would be getting a very undignified view of her while ‘doing his worst’. The reality sunk in at his words.

Hobbit has started me off on a chain of chocolate thoughts.

I have a stash of chocolate. it is a serious stash. It overflows from a quite big tin. People usually think I'm exaggerating when I say this. I'm not. When I convince other choco-lovers that I do indeed have several pounds of chocolate they usually say they'd eat the lot. Unless one has a severe eating disorder, this is unlikely.

In the dark ages when I was younger and Susie Orbach had never heard of Diana Spencer I read the brilliant 'Fat is a Feminist Issue' where SB reckoned that no matter how much you like a food there's a limit to how much you can/will eat and she's right. I eat far more chocolate than I should but I find I'm quite choosy and don't get all desperate over a manky biscuit just because it has chocolate on it and I don't obsess if I'm in a house with an open tin of Quality Street. Nor do I have to get dressed and go out at an ungodly hour in search of chocolate.

Sadly I'm unsophisticated in my chocolate tastes and prefer Cadbury's and ordinary Swiss milk chocolate to the 'real' dark, bitter stuff. I have phases of whether I prefer thin or thick chocolate as they're different taste sensations. I went through loads of cheap Cadbury's button eggs being sold off cheap post-Easter - the joys of Hypervalue!

Apparently the really juvenile stuff according to the choco-pundits is Galaxy. I have Galaxy phases, but not having one at the moment. I tried a Caramac bar for first time in ages. I'm sure it used to be called chocolate but having read the ingredients I can see why it isn't now! I've recently rediscovered Bounty bars and Raspberry Ruffle bars, but Ruffle bars are hard to find.

My current favourite 'posh-ish' chocolate is Lindt's Lindor chocs in red wrapper. They are however best at warm temperatures as filling seems to explode for an amazing chocolate hit.

A recent experience made me think and want to put up my 'counselling manifesto'

For the first time in ages a casual mention of the fact I used to be a counsellor, ellicited a painful story from a passing acquaintence and a request for an opinion. I am able to realise the limits of my responsibility when someone I may never see again asks leading questions five minutes before the end of a journey. The experience, however, made me think.

I've decided to write what I have said to so many people over the years. If it is useful for anyone - great; if not - so be it...

Suzee's Counselling Manifersto

I do not believe counselling is the be all and end all.

Lots of people cope with all sorts of things without counselling and that is absolutely great.

If you prefer a cup of tea or a beer or something more damaging, but it feels right, I respect your choice.

If you can keep the nasty stuff in a metaphorical box and enjoy life that too is great.

I think counselling makes sense when:
*the tea, beer or whatever no longer works;
*the 'whatever' is causing you serious harm;
*the nasty stuff won't stay in the box;
*something is stopping you enjoying life;
*you feel it is a good time to open the box.

Counsellors can sometimes be more sutable cofidants than friends and families because you don't have to protect them from the nastiness of what's in the box and/or from your pain.

I was expecting a visit from my significant other today, but he's snowed up in Swansea! I'm just very disappointed. Email and phones are wonderful but not the same as being with another person.

Thought I ought to read friends' columns & alarmed myself at the thoughts generated by a skim of your columns & obviously deeper more serious thoughts.
These were:
where is the line on safe consensual activities ?
I sometimes fantasise about maids...& uniforms
I am a timid conservative speculator/auto voyeur.
Do I pretend that I have a morality?

"Hello Rabbit, Is that you?"
"Let's pretend it isn't & see what happens.."
'nuff said

I read Micky's comments with interest. I'm not sure whether questions raised were for him or me, but thought they raised interesting issues to which I'd like to respond.

where is the line on safe consensual activities ?

The line on safe and consensual is where the people who discuss it agree. Safety is physical and emotional and has to be as agreed. If one is into serious sub/Dom stuff, slavery or 24/7 this obviously gets complex. As I am not submissive generally, I find it easy to simply trust my partner with control in a specific context. Consensuality is vital - Otherwise you're talking abuse. I've had disagreements on this one as some people like their partner to be in control with less limits. I see this as simply consent in advance - A sort of consensual non-con agreement. Of course fantasy is entirely different and fantasising non-con or acting it out by mutual agreement is not the same as real non-con

I sometimes fantasise about maids...& uniforms

Not sure I understand this, but see no reason not to fantasise about maids...& uniforms - nor to act them out if 'actors' happy to do so.

I am a timid conservative speculator/auto voyeur.

Again not sure I understand - but a timid conservative speculator sounds like a reasonable stance for much in life and I assume an auto voyeur is one who with self-awareness?

Do I pretend that I have a morality?

Once again I'm confused - Surely morality is a continuum with shades of grey rather than either/or? I'm not being relativist - I do see many actions can be moral, immoral, morally neutral. I suspect most of us have a morality. Personally, I prefer to think in terms of ethics as morality tends to get reduced to personal sexual choices and preferences by so-called moral crusaders.

"Hello Rabbit, Is that you?"
"Let's pretend it isn't & see what happens.."
'nuff said

Now I'm confused... I don't think I've ever been called Rabbit...I did once buy a rabbit, but I found it rather intimidating and it now lives at the back of a drawer and its batteries are probably flat:D

I've got out of the habit of being a voracious reader to being a dabbler. While I can't help reading the hoardings and cereal packet, I've not read a book for a little while.

I've just been lent McCall Smith's 44 Scotland Street and got tempted. I'd loved the No.1 Ladies' Detective Agency books and felt let down by The Sunday Philosophy Club. A friend whose taste I trust had felt the same and lent me Scotland Street with assurances. I just started it in the bath and was intrigued to find it is a genuinely serialised novel. I've only read about twenty pages, but enjoying it and aware of the difference in tone and pace to a 'normal' story and looking forward to the rest.

I'm intrigued at nature of such an approach. Personally I like writing short stories (straight and spanking), because short stories seem to suit my thought and writing processes.

In straight fiction I like playing with a fairly simple 'moment' and exploring its meaning and reverberation in a narrow timeframe - discovering you're adopted; buying a piece of garden furniture; seeking driving lessons; attending a reunion; attempting to kill your cousin; going on a blind date to name a few.

While I am more drawn to full-length novels as a reader it is the short-story that draws me as a writer. I may of course, merely have a short attention span!

I've read some spanking novels, but they tend to be more about journey into submission and that's just not my interest. Creating an interesting setting and situation around a one-off spanking seems more straightforward and appeals to me because it mirrors the spanking fantasy.

The spanking stuff does seem to take on a life of its own sometimes and when sharing a 'work in progress' an episodic approach and mini-developments become part of the story and process.

My partner Stan and I started sharing writing before we met and moved on to write some joint stories as well as share 'works in progress'. After a rather lovely celebration of his birthday I got a story idea and decided to write it for him as a birthday present. I would actually feel the story was reaching it's end, when I'd get side tracked and the whole thing developed into a much longer, more teasing narrative.

There is something about being read as you write that does seem to affect the process.

Just a few random odd thoughts and connections. My Dad was a painter and decorator and claimed all the fancily named off-white colours were simply 'magnolia'. I'm in the middle of decorating and thinking about warm beiges and remembering Dad's 'magnolia'. I sent for some toiletries (there's actually an Avon lady who calls on me)and had them delivered. They included magnolia body lotion and I really like smell, but of course the name took me back to my Dad and made me smile...

As well as Avon lady there are the Betterwear and Kleeneezee men and the locals who cut the grass. I also had visit from a 'Provident lady' - Provident is basically a form of credit available to working class people. it's something my Mum and others used when I was a child - Part of same 'Valleys culture' as the tally man and insurance salesman calling weekly. Nowadays Provident have nice brochures and I discovered the interest rate is 72%!

There's been some recent look at this type of credit. Some interest rates are actually several hundred%, but on the whole customers are not unhappy with service. Presumably because of problems of the most likely customers being able to get cheap credit available to people with more resources.

(*also known as...)

I was thinking about identity (as you do) and whether people have different personae to match their alternate names/identities or not.

The very fact I call myself Suzee in cyber, but freely admit it is not my 'given' name once led to an accusation of dishonesty. When I admitted to Suzee being a pename, assumptions about my 'intentions' were made.

As a writer of spanking stuff I try to be honest, but compartmentalise my life for the privacy of myself and others and to be appropriate in other areas of my life. That said, while Suzee reflects an aspect of me, she is fully me. I don't give 'her' thoughts, ideas or a lifestyle that are separate or different from mine.

When I've met people who first encountered me in cyber, I always tell them my everyday name. Interestingly, some seem to think of me as Suzee, and continue to use the name anyway.

I realise that some people have fun inventing a new persona to go with their alternative name and can see that would be entertaining, it's just not something I've done. I do write stories in first person, but I don't invent alternative Suzees outside fiction.

Of course having an alias behind which one can hide does allow one to be playful or experimental and I can see that as useful and realise that it is probably something I do. I think it's rather like meeting a new group of people for the first time and presenting oneself as one chooses without a load of labels readily attached - not as someone else, but choosing the bits to show and emphasise.

And of course here in cyber and Blogland some people wish or need to say things and protecting their identity is important. We are all aware I guess of the cases where bloggers have lost their jobs.

I joked that the 'Domme' in my picture gallery was really a sub waiting for someone to turn the tables and Tovarich highlighted possibility of getting confused between Dom/mes and subs. I think it is a real possibility.

When I was single I did attend a few BDSM social gatherings. As a 'mere' (My definition! I was never belittled by the BDSM folk for my narrower focus)spankee I didn't have a 'costume'as such, but those into sub/Dom/me roles did.

And it was a little confusing, as it tended to be black and sexy, but rather ambiguous. A belt with 'stuff' denoted one's status as a Dom/me and a collar usually denoted sub status. I understand however, to some a collar is symbolic of a specific relationship and would not be seen as appropriate by some if one was not in a sub/Dom/me relationship. Confused? I'm not surprised!

And of course with feisty subs, and quiet Dom/mes it isn't that obvious from demeanour either.

Before I was aware of any 'dresscode' I was aware of the confused symbolism of the high-heeled shoe. This is something I wrote ages ago, before having met anyone in the 'scene', but based on populist references and images. [If you're an Archers fan and have an idealised picture of Caroline Pemberton nee Bone, look away now. On the other hand, if you're more of an Archers anarchist - Carry on!]

While Caroline was aware of the sexiness of her costume and her delightfully daring boots she had not quite appreciated the mixed messages she sent with her provocative costume as various bidders viewed the strapped up and hobbled vision of their bondage fantasy and others the black-clad, booted dominatrix of their desire

Thanks for food for thought, Tov!

My exchange on images and fantasies with Tovarich set me thinking. Tov expresses it really well for me. I too had spanking fantasies first, onto which I later added sexual elements (when I understood it!) and more overtly sexualised. I guess the primacy of the idea for me, pre-dating sexual awareness is why spanking is so obviously sexual to me. And once again (like a Gov't Health Warning!)I do understand that this isn't so for all spankos/BDSMers...

I did have an interesting rogue thought on this the other day. Because I found the idea of spanking so exciting, in a way, I chose to sexualise the fantasies. I wrote the following in an autobiographical piece:

I would imagine scenarios where handsome men meted out punishments to naughty girls or women. While these secret fantasies were thrilling I didn't see them as sexual and I discovered my sexuality in a vanilla context. Actually progressing to intercourse through the tortuous stages of 'courting' were as much sexuality as I could handle. And yet in a separate little world the spanking thoughts were there.
As I became more sexually aware I realised sexual fantasy was part of the sexual experience...
I knew women could enjoy themselves alone so I decided to experiment. No prizes for guessing my thoughts as I discovered the delights of solo masturbation. My youthful fantasies came flooding back with some wonderful additions. I now knew about sex; being spanked by any man was thrilling but being spanked by a lover or a man who would become my lover was the ultimate turn-on.

If at nineteen (I was a slow starter!) I hadn't chosen to use my favourite fantasy sexually I wonder if I would see spanking as non-sexual and perhaps come to enjoy spanking, but in a non-sexual way? perhaps it would have the satisfaction and/or tingle of excitement, sensuality, endorphins or similar rather than overt sexuality. Am I somehow 'wired' to be sexually aroused by spanking or did I 'wire' myself that fateful day? It is obviously fabulously erotic for me, but have I conditioned myself?!

I'd love to know what others with an interest or fetish think...

I've had a dodgy Internet connection and somehow my words of wisdom on Hallowe'en seem very out-of-date. For the record - I was very nice to my trick or treaters - I had five or six lots of little ones with protective hovering older child or adult in background. I also had a pair of boys aged about twelve come calling. all were polite and pleasant and have helped reduced the chocolate mountain of Fairwater! that said i still think 400and odd Hallowe'en 'lines'are inexcusable! Bah! Humbug! (And bring back Spangles!:D)

I'm delighted that Fi is back on Broadcasting House on Sunday. I am also getting to be more and more of an Eddie Mair fan. Whatever the aural equivalent of the 'doubletake' is - he causes them! There is also something about his and Fi's exchanges that seem very loaded and saucy. If I had to choose a fantasy pair of radio spankos it would be Eddie and Fi. That's in addition to my reworkings of The Archers of course!

it's been suggested to me that there is something ambiguous about me having a pic of a 'Domme' in my choice of images. And despite Tov's teasings, I'm definitely not a switch. I really like the sleazy 50s look of the pic. And of course in my version it would all be a tease to get the tables turned and she would be the one getting the spanking!
Sorry, Tov!