Monday, 23 August 2010
Evening all, greetings from home where I am chilling out avec moggies.
First things first, hurrah for The Highland News !! They ran the story last week and reported accurately and fairly, I think all of us who were mentioned were very impressed and pleased with the article. Less impressed, it would seem were the womenfolk of the West Coast. One of those lovely ladies placed a call my way last night which had me creased up with laughter. Thank you for informing me I'm a "dirty hoor", thank goodness for that, I thought I was a traffic warden. Further, if I'm going to hell then I'm sure I'll be in good company, after all, that's where all the interesting people go and finally, I know prostitutes who wouldn't use that type of language. Wash your mouth out.
Last Saturday we had a social evening and it was fantastic, we raised a toast to our departed friend and had a ball. ( I'm still at a loss to understand how a member of the male contingency managed to pick me up, I'm no Kate Moss. ) I drove home afterwards with a huge grin on my face, not least because when I left her, Amanda was wearing one of the gent's ties and suffocating another with her boobage in a bear hug. The originator of the tie was bellowing "FOGHORN - LEGHORN" at varying intervals, ( as you do ). Since I no longer drink, the latter parts of any evening are all but lost on me now, so when it gets to the part where a glassy and teary eyed volunteer launches into "Danny Boy" or starts mourning the green, green grass of home ( in spite of the fact they've only ever been to Wigan as a boy ), it's probably time to go.
( As a complete aside, it is a little known fact that Irish people only know the first two lines of "Danny Boy", after that they mumble. FACT. )
Speaking of faux-tragedies, Susan and I arrived in Carlisle the other day to begin our tour and as I pulled into the carpark I noticed a pigeon in the middle of the road. Most pigeons would fly away but he wasn't budging so I got out of the car. He was clearly very badly injured, operating on one leg and unable to fly. I tried to scoop him up but he wasn't having that, so in the end with some gentle "hooshing", I got him to the side of the road. We checked in and went for coffee but my conscience was getting the better of me. I asked the waitress ..
"This might sound strange, but could I have some bread ? It's for an injured pigeon 'round the back."
"Oh, the poor thing, hang on, I'll go feed him."
So I tipped her and thanked her and waited. Eventually she appeared back ...
"I've searched high and low and can't find him."
I wandered off to see if I could locate pigeon ICU. Oh I found him alright, except he was about an inch from the ground, a car had got him and he had gone to the great Pigeon Fancier's Club in the sky.
Amanda did her "Mother comforting voice" thing at the social, you know, the one you use when you have to explain to your four year old why you had to flush the goldfish down the toilet.
"Sometimes, animals just know when it's their time, and they just erm ..... decide to end it all."
Comforted by the notion that it was in fact a suicidal pigeon, tomorrow I am off with Mr. F to Spain for a week.
Before I go to the delayed departures nirvana, I thought I would let you know that my friend Claire has finally gotten off her backside and started blogging, there's a link to her blog here ;
Enjoy. Never again will I bring her to my local Tesco's, where they have now negated the need for an announcement system.
I'll catch up with you when I get back from Catalonia, where they have just outlawed bull fighting. What am I supposed to do for a week then ? ;)
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Morning all, I'm back from a tremendous trip to Inverness. Susan and I are both absolutely fuggered and aside from taking the light of my life swimming today I am doing nada this weekend, I deserve some slob time.
Speaking of Susan, she has done a blog last evening which I must admit made me sniffle a bit.
Only Susan could make me laugh and cry at the same time, I'm sorry if I come across as scary, I certainly don't mean to, and as for the hair, well, I've been tempted to have a go with my strimmer. I might ask my hunky new neighbour for a loan of his hedge wotsit. ( More on him later, if I have anything to do with it, heh heh. ) Anyway, thank you Susan and I love you too. ( Mad mare. )
Speaking of lovely ladies I have been busy collecting my old stockings for a project which Dollymopp is busy with, she is going to use them for art. Good for her, personally I couldn't draw a straight line with a ruler to save my life and I admire anyone with a creative or artistic talent.
I also wanted to say thank you to Lady Lust/Linzi fae Cumbernauld, whilst I was in Inverness I met a client who said she had recommended me, so I was chuffed.
I had a bit of sad news last night. When I came back to escorting in 2006 I joined various message boards to chat with other folks from the industry. There was a group of us who quickly became firm friends, we met for dinner and a social evening every six months and still do. One of those friends who flew in from the Far East for two of those social events has died.
I think his screen name tells you a lot about the man, he had a wicked sense of humour and he was also a gentleman with a heart of gold. I hope that where ever he is now, he's enjoying his favourite tipple of Bombay sapphire gin and tonic.
Farewell, "Sir Shagalot".
Monday, 9 August 2010
7 days and 8 hours until the little darlings are back at school. Summer holidays are enough to reduce any parent to a gibbering wreck in an abnormally short space of time.
"Can I have some money ?"
"Girl cat put her face in my Frosties again."
Happily, this summer I managed to wean the light of my life away from those Godawful American shows with canned laughter and actors who will be in rehab before they're 15. We have progressed to "Brainiac Science Abuse", with John Tickle, further proof as if it were required that all Big Brother contestants should be shot on sight. This transition has resulted in a series of complex experiments being conducted in various sectors of my humble abode, to include a bathroom sink filled with a thick white viscous compound. Sometimes I think if you're really not going to like the answer, don't ask the question, so I waited until it subsided and then poured some boiling water down the drain to flush "it" through. For anyone who thinks the scientific experiments of a 9 year old will contribute little to society, I am happy to inform you that cats float, apparently, ( albeit under heavy protest ).
Something which warrants far more serious comment is a very inspirational woman I had the pleasure to meet recently. The why's and wherefore's of how we met are not relevant here, and I also want to protect her identity. She deals with children at the very end of the care system, when she takes them on they are 15/16 and have been through every institution and foster family, without success.
In some cases these children are the product of an attempt at a "family unit", so they are adopted at a relatively young age but put back into the care system the minute the couple concerned manage to conceive a child of their own. Truly horrendous, I didn't actually believe married couples in desperate desire of a child could be so cold towards a child who needs stability so badly. By the time they have reached this lady, all they have known all of their lives is rejection and they have gone beyond the point of "behaving" for anyone - they don't see the point as they are going to be rejected again. I asked her -
"How on earth do you begin to build bridges with these children and build up their self confidence ?"
She said it is a matter of consistent love, even when they have smashed up their bedroom again or stolen money from her purse for drugs. Eventually the message of consistent love gets through to them, they open up to her and she helps them through counselling, education and the beginnings of a career, be it a trade or a start at higher education. Her reward, she said, is to go to their graduation ceremonies simply bursting with pride.
She really inspired me, not just for all I have detailed above but for what she went on to say. In some circumstances she has come across children who were trafficked into the country as sex slaves, from The Congo for example, as young as 8 years old. By the time these children reach her in their teens, they are traumatised beyond belief and in fact she explained to me that it took her 18 months to get one particular girl to admit that the scarring on her body was from her "handlers", not from an industrial accident, ( as she had been told to say to the authorities ).
From speaking to this lady, it is clear that the "system" has let these children down every step of the way. It is time for the legislators and law enforcers in this country to desist from persecuting consenting adults having paid sex and to concentrate on the vulnerable, the weak and the exploited. These are the people who truly need our help.
Saturday, 7 August 2010
Morning all, ecstatic is the word to describe how I'm feeling today. I would cartwheel all over my living room but since I haven't actually done a cartwheel since I was 12 I'd probably break my neck. I spent the first part of yesterday at the hospital and the second in floods of tears. The great news is I have the all clear, I do need an operation to remove the mass but it's not cancerous. I texted my friends and family to let them know and the replies came in one after the other as I was sitting in a restaurant enjoying brunch. The end result was moi, sobbing, because I realised just how lucky I am to have such amazing friends.
You know those t-shirts that say "I'm not fat, I'm pregnant !", I wish I had one of those yesterday which said "I'm not sad, I'm happy !", because the looks I was getting were priceless. Sod it, I firmly believe a good blub is good for the soul and when you're stressed it's got to manifest itself somehow. Speaking of stresses, there was no sign of the Highland News running the story on escorts this week, hmmmm, maybe another call is in order. I'm sure the reporter in question will be grateful. ;) Either they've decided to bin it or they're waiting for a week when nowt much else is happening.
In the afternoon I went to visit a friend who has a farm and spent 20 minutes chasing one of her sheep who had escaped, true medicine and I was in knots laughing. ( I'm not sure the sheep was too impressed to be honest, but since she was almost hit by a Landrover I guess being chased into a field was the lesser of two evils. )
Anyway, I am scheduled to have the operation in the first week of October and will be off work for two weeks. So, I am in the process of planning my September diary and it will be fairly hectic in preparation for my sofa time. Gawd it's going to be boring, I don't "do" lie still and relax, although the next part of Uni is due to start around then so that will keep me busy I suppose. ( Plus I have 20,547 things that could do with being put on Ebay. )
Happy Saturday everyone,
Sunday, 1 August 2010
During the week I had a phonecall that every escort dreads, even those of us who choose to speak to the press.
"Hello Laura, my name is ************ and I am a journalist with the Highland News. Please don't hang up."
Now if you're wondering why he said "Don't hang up", it's because the HN have an appalling track record on "outing" ladies, a record of which I am acutely aware. As the gentleman concerned has promised not to out me in any way and as I do not have his permission to use his name then I shan't.
He went on to explain that he is writing an article about why Inverness is such an appealing place for ladies to tour. He wanted to concentrate on the new breed of independant escort who is a million miles away from the traditional depiction of a sex worker. Fair enough. He went on to say that he had been on the Punternet tour calender and had pulled details of ladies who were touring there, using their working names and pictures.
I asked him why I should help when the paper has ruined lives by publishing the pictures of ladies. He said that in those cases, those were ladies who it was felt were working against their will and with some coercion involved. "Fine, but then surely it is better to expose the scum who organise these rings than add to the ladies misery by outing them ?" His reply was that the leaders are shady characters who are diffcult to catch. Hmmm. Be that as it may, he had the information he needed for the basis of a story from the touring listings, so it was clear he was going to run the story one way or the other.
So, I gave him a couple of quotes, that I am an independent escort who is not pimped, drug addicted or coerced in any way and that I love my job. I added that I pay my taxes, national insurance and run my business like any other. From memory I think we spoke about the type of clients I see too, so it was all fairly standard stuff.
In return I have his WORD that he will not out any of the ladies, publish pictures by which they will be recognised or place their personal lives in jeopardy in any way. Having since spoken to him on the phone, I believe him, he read the article back to me and I'm happy with the content. He sounds like a man of his word, although I did finish by saying that if he compromises my right to privacy in any way I will drag him through every court from here to Dingwall. We both chuckled at that and the whole coversation was very amiable. So, Thursday will tell.
Mean while, this little beauty appeared in "Scotland on Sunday" today ;
I won't go into it in depth, but this quote from Ann Hamilton got me in particular;
"People tend to think that prostitution is dead sexy, very liberating and that there is nothing harmful about it. It's portrayed as very attractive women having lots of sex and enjoying it, when in actual fact that's about 0.005 per cent of women."
I have challenged the good lady to provide a source for that particular statistic, since as one poster on Punternet said, if there are 80,000 sex workers in the UK and I am one of those "happy hookers", then where are the other three ?
Answers on a postcard to the usual address please. *sigh*