Before we bought our own place in Twickenham, we lived for a few years in a little first floor one bedroom apartment in Acton. We flew home from there to get married and came back to live there again afterward. It was cosy and it was fun.
Even when Trish’s sister Una came to stay for a few months, it was still fun. Una was always a blast and London was at its very best for us around that time. But it was kind of tight for space, what with Una sleeping in the living room and all. Finding those intimate little moments, the ones that newlyweds crave, was sometimes a bit hard to manage.
So I was delighted when I slipped into the bathroom one Saturday morning and found my wife leaned over the wash basin vigorously brushing her teeth. She was dressed casually in a nice pale blue Ton-Sur-Ton top which I liked (I know I shouldn’t know that, sorry) and black leggings
Being young and foolish I couldn’t resist sidling up behind her, lifting her Ton-Sur-Tom hem a little and gently clasping her legging-clad ass with my hands. One hand for each buttock – rather a neat equation.
Then I did something I had never, ever, done before and it has lived with me ever since. Well, it wasn’t actually something I did, it was more something I said. Perhaps it was that clasped rear-end, so familiar and yet so new, that made me do it.
I whispered in my wife’s ear. I whispered the immortal words, ‘Goose-ey, Goose-ey’.
(Wait a minute… “So new?” What the hell_?)
Her head raised from the wash basin and our eyes locked together through the steamy wall mirror. This wasn’t my wife, this was her sister. She must have borrowed Trish’s Ton-Sur-Ton top and now here was I, hands neatly planted on buttocks, whispering sweet but absolute nonsense into her ear.
I fled.
I don’t think I said a word, I just fled. I had only one thought, to find Trish and explain it all to her before Una burst out of the bathroom screaming virtual-incest and incoherent verbal harassment. Trish was watching telly in the living room.
“I_ I_ went in the bathroom and I thought it was you and I_”
Una came in. She looked at Trish.
“He said ‘Goose-ey Goose-ey,” she whispered, and then she collapsed on the couch in a paroxysm of silent hilarity.
I’m telling you this because it’s nearly Christmas time and, wherever my in-laws gather, this story will be told and retold. If ever I’m being over-serious or pretentious, someone only has to mutter two words and all my attempts at gravitas immediately fly out the window.
“Goose-ey goose-ey.”
Even when Trish’s sister Una came to stay for a few months, it was still fun. Una was always a blast and London was at its very best for us around that time. But it was kind of tight for space, what with Una sleeping in the living room and all. Finding those intimate little moments, the ones that newlyweds crave, was sometimes a bit hard to manage.
So I was delighted when I slipped into the bathroom one Saturday morning and found my wife leaned over the wash basin vigorously brushing her teeth. She was dressed casually in a nice pale blue Ton-Sur-Ton top which I liked (I know I shouldn’t know that, sorry) and black leggings
Being young and foolish I couldn’t resist sidling up behind her, lifting her Ton-Sur-Tom hem a little and gently clasping her legging-clad ass with my hands. One hand for each buttock – rather a neat equation.
Then I did something I had never, ever, done before and it has lived with me ever since. Well, it wasn’t actually something I did, it was more something I said. Perhaps it was that clasped rear-end, so familiar and yet so new, that made me do it.
I whispered in my wife’s ear. I whispered the immortal words, ‘Goose-ey, Goose-ey’.
(Wait a minute… “So new?” What the hell_?)
Her head raised from the wash basin and our eyes locked together through the steamy wall mirror. This wasn’t my wife, this was her sister. She must have borrowed Trish’s Ton-Sur-Ton top and now here was I, hands neatly planted on buttocks, whispering sweet but absolute nonsense into her ear.
I fled.
I don’t think I said a word, I just fled. I had only one thought, to find Trish and explain it all to her before Una burst out of the bathroom screaming virtual-incest and incoherent verbal harassment. Trish was watching telly in the living room.
“I_ I_ went in the bathroom and I thought it was you and I_”
Una came in. She looked at Trish.
“He said ‘Goose-ey Goose-ey,” she whispered, and then she collapsed on the couch in a paroxysm of silent hilarity.
I’m telling you this because it’s nearly Christmas time and, wherever my in-laws gather, this story will be told and retold. If ever I’m being over-serious or pretentious, someone only has to mutter two words and all my attempts at gravitas immediately fly out the window.
“Goose-ey goose-ey.”
