Out of the EU…

Today has been a strange day. I felt like my mojo was missing. I can’t put my finger on it.

I have been productive though. I’ve got a lot of writing done. I just seemed so absent minded.

On Wednesday evening, I celebrated the removal of the gate next door with cheese,wine and chocolate. My midweek glass of wine. It was very enjoyable.

Yesterday a friend visited and another one today. And in between my writing.

The nerve in my leg began to hurt again, so I meditated on it and it faded away.

This is the strangest post I’ve ever written.


Venus today…

Venus is right by the moon now and it’s wonderful.



Some great news and my garden…

I went to get some shopping earlier and as I came out of my gates I saw that my neighbour’s gate next to mine is gone. Yes, gone!!!!

The gate is gone!!!!!!!!

I laughed out loud. I felt such relief. I also confess to some pleasure that the miserable spirit that was so determined to get his way, has had his nose punched, so to speak.

I did write to someone in authority yesterday. I don’t know if that did it or if others who use the car park for the sheltered housing had complained. All I know is that my relief is great.

So I celebrated by putting two water snails in my tiny pond, and two water plants. I feel sorry for the snails as they have such cold water. I need to adjust a few things. I have some new plants to plant too.

My fig tree has been in bud since October, so I’m looking forward to see what this year brings. One tiny fig appeared last autumn too. I pinched it off so that no energy gets diverted from leaves and growth.

Oh, I’m so happy about the gate. They won’t be renting space in my head again.

Just a couple of weeks now and the sun will be in my back garden. I can’t wait.


My neighbours, Mike, and Quay Living…

I have decided that these people cannot rent space in my head anymore.

My neighbours’ windchimes are making a din and quite frankly I can’t bear it, I will be buying headphones. I can’t let myself become ill because of them. I don’t like to do this because I love birdsong, although they ended that. I also love the sound of wind and rain.

Now the man nextdoor has started hammering nails above and below the handle of the drop down bolt of the rear gate that they keep open. This breaches their tenancy rules. I’ve had to pull them out once, but they were put right back. Such immaturity is beyond me.

Quay Living, the letting agent, don’t care. All they want is their money. They couldn’t care less that the wider neighbourhood has been upset by their tenants.

Mike has been hard to get out of my head. It’s not my fault he thinks so little of himself that he decided I only wanted him to be my ‘cleaner, cook and nurse’. It’s not surprising though as when he lived next door he was treated pretty much like a dog. Not allowed out, not able to keep promises he made to me about making amends for waking me at 3am and manhandling me.

He broke my laptop, and is so cowardly that he changed his phone number. He must have much lower self-esteem than I ever realised, but it’s not surprising considering the relationship. She referred to him as a complete idiot, and the money I owed didn’ ‘matter, it’s Mike’s money anyway’. And she moved him a 40 minute walk from his work, telling him they need to save money, when there are rentals under £850 much nearer. It was to control him and keep him away from me. But it didn’t work. He came to see me, and that was what tipped me into love.

But it’s useless loving someone who is so messed up that they stay in a toxic relationship.


The weather…

It is pouring with rain and feels like 2C. That’s just above freezing.

I have wanted to visit neighbour. On Saturday evening there was a frenzied rapping at my door. It was a doctor looking for Amanda. Not here. As I resumed my sofa, it dawned on me that Amanda lives at 9. I went to the door and called out to the doctor to go to number 9.

I wanted to drop in today to see if she was ok, and if they need anything. It’s a bit too much to walk and if I use the trolley, I will get soaked. I hope the weather will be drier tomorrow.

I have met resistance again in the same locality with the campaign. I will not post there again. Everywhere else is on board, though some feel it’s too late. But this is to the PM, and I tell them I have written to him. This garners some signatures.

My writing is getting more read on medium. It feels good.


The Six Nations…

I have spent today urging people to sign a petition, answering questions and statements made about the proposed changes to our hospitals that were so convoluted that I could barely believe them, and have had everything mansplained to me several times.

It happens, but not as frequently as today.

I am looking forward to the Six Nations rugby championship which starts next Saturday. I always support Ireland, who do well when they don’t win. I love rugby, my phone google follows it for me along with a loot of other sports.


Not so good Saturday…

Yesterday evening, my daughter said something unkind to me. My whole being seemed to shrink and my purpose in life wobbled for a while.

The people we love can hurt us in places other people cannot reach. The love that binds us feels the knife of words deeply, forgives easily, but the wound can sink deep and wobble us.

This is normal. My identity as a mother still runs deep, although it’s no longer my primary function.We take the blows of unfiltered children more easily. My daughter was always so sweet to me when she was small. The only unfiltered comment that amused me, concerned me, made me laugh, and feel substandard all at once were her yearly questions about whether she would get as many freckles as I.

In her teens, I managed to not show how her angry outbursts affected me. I still don’t let on how much she can hurt me. It serves no useful purpose.

I am struggling with the campaign, as we still have only 2 000 signatures on the latest petition to save our hospital. It increases daily, but more and more slowly. So an unkind remark has more effect.

I am ok now. Time brings perspective.

I had anchovies in garlic for lunch yesterday.High in fat and protein. I enjoyed it.


On becoming defacto leader of the campaign to save our hospital…

I wrote a letter to the Prime Minister. As a person, he intrigues me. Highly intelligent, lots of subjects to talk about. As a politician, he represents nothing I value.

But the hospital needs saving. I not only needed to be nice to him, I complimented him to help him see our point of view and that people will die if he doesn’t intervene.

Politics is about making friends with one’s natural enemies. It isn’t always as easy as writing a letter. Sometimes one has to sit across the table and look them in eye. I have no idea if the letter will work. I may need to write more.

I’m trying to organise direct action, but few are willing when they realise the police will pay us a visit. At the moment we are a team of two. We can do it with two, but more would be good.

It’s hard. Now is crunch time. Time to act.


The power of a nap…

Today, around noon, I shut down my phone and got into bed. I napped for about two hours. I didn’t realise I was tired, but looking back at my week I’ve woken early most mornings and the pain in my thigh has occurred twice.

Pain is tiring, and so is waking at 5.30 am. At some point we need to replenish. I’m fortunate that because I work from home, I can take a nap when I choose.

I enjoy my life, working in this way. I’m having lunch with a friend tomorrow. The weather here is very sunny, and very cold. When the sun goes in, the temperature drops a great deal. I shall enjoy the occasion, on the quay, by the harbour where I live.


Boost your mind…

I write for a lot of my day, so I thought I’d share some things I do throughout the day to keep my mind alert.

1, I stop for lunch, which I eat in another room.

2. I have a couple of scrabble games going, so I stop to take my turn.

3. My scrabble is on facebook, so I always have my ‘active’turned off.

4. I do a quiz on my phone. It’s fun, not serious.

6. I stop to drink, tea, juice, cordial

7. I snack on nuts and dried fruit.

8. I inhale slowly and deeply five times

9. I look at something twenty feet away for twenty seconds.

I don’t do these in any particular order, just whatever is at hand or feel like at that moment.


A good Tuesday…

It’s been a good day. Everything has been easy, no breathless whatsoever. I’ve been writing, reading, I ordered a water lily and snails for my tiny pond. I’ve continued to play a couple of games of scrabble, as a mind boost, I also do a small quiz each day for a mind boost.

I’m taking part in some research on touch, which I heard about through Radio 4. It’s interesting. I often take part in reach.

The nerve in my thigh started to ache again. Heat helped, with a painkiller and I will be in bed shortly.

The weather is very cold and sunny, which is what I love, but I’ve been content to watch the harbour and sunrise mainly from my window.

It seems I’m now in charge of the campaign to save our hospital. I didn’t want to be but that’s how it’s worked out… so that’s more work to do.


Post from The multi-orgasm MAN

The Joys of Becoming a Multi-Orgasmic Man

Learning to Have Multiple Orgasms Can Radically Change Your Sex Life

Joe Duncan

I’ll never forget the look of slight terror on her face the first time it happened. Even though we’d discussed it at length, I don’t think she was ready for the actual experience of it. It was her first time being with a multi-orgasmic man. She was stunningly beautiful and, honestly, I’d had a crush on her for longer than I’d like to admit — we’ll just say it was something to the tune of five long years.

Her long, black hair was striking, being the first thing I noticed when we’d initially met. She found me at a party and kept finding me, again and again, to chat me up. She sat on my lap and we became best friends, or at least the best of friends that two people can be when they’d just met earlier that very same evening.

Her smile was quirky, her dimples would puncture her cheeks, her eyes would glass over and squint when she smiled at me. She couldn’t stop grinning her big, toothy grins with pearly white teeth that shined throughout the room. Short and thin, her hips accentuated her many tattoos in all the right ways. I don’t think she stopped smiling at me the entire night. Something was up. She’d come to the party in search of hot women she might be able to hook-up with, yet, here she was, perkily smiling at me.

We clicked from the moment we met, enjoyed one another’s company, and we’d end up fooling around that night…but alas, she was a self-identified lesbian and I was going in a million different directions at once…the joys of a misspent youth. I’d assumed she’d made an exception, that night, and our excursion was a single, unusual moment, never to be repeated.

After that night, she and I went our separate ways, we found different women, each of us, and enjoyed a healthy friendship, never speaking about the events that transpired that night again. We sort of just kept everything under wraps. I didn’t want to cause her any confusion about her sexuality and figured it’d be best to just let the past stay in the past. After she’d newly became single, five years later, she was down in the dumps and not sure what to do next. I was trying to reassure her when I said, “You know, if you were into men, I’d take you out to coffee in a second. You’re stunningly beautiful and I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding someone new.” But an attempt at sincere reassurance had unintended consequences.

She replied that she would like that and confessed she’d always had a bit of a thing for me. We spent the next several nights on the phone until ungodly hours of the morning, talking, flirting, and exchanging sweet nothings. We each confessed that we’d thought about that night we hooked up for years, neither of us daring to mention it for fear of ruining the friendship which had blossomed.

One thing led to another and we ended up on my living room floor, her legs spread apart as I dug my face in and ate her out from behind, her hands plastered up against the wall of my apartment. Our bare bodies thrusted into each other like you’d expect from two people who’d been dying to try one another out again for five long years. We couldn’t get enough. The room reeked of sex and we could barely control ourselves. We pawed at one another, grabbing at flesh, kissing passionately as our heads twirled and tongues danced.

From behind, I bit her asscheek and then rolled her over onto the floor, bare and bent she sat before me, down on her knees and waiting for me to enter. What a joy it was to stare down at her beautiful contour and shape. She was an unorthodox beauty, short punk-ish hair, at this point, and a devilishly mischievous grin, a grin that was now obscured as I stared down at her elongated and caramel-colored back. Shortly thereafter, it would happen.

I’d told her, specifically, that I was multi-orgasmic beforehand — but that didn’t seem to matter. People have a tendency not to believe you until it’s actually happening. I had my first orgasm inside of her and, having not been with a man in quite a long time, she was slightly afraid. She didn’t know what to make of it. Was the sex over? What if the condom ripped? Pregnancy, after all, wasn’t something she’d ever really had to worry about, preferring to sleep with women. I reassured her, it was just an orgasm — not an ejaculation. She remembered what we’d discussed and immediately returned to enjoying the sex.

I would have three more orgasms before finally coming to the final climax. She grinned from ear to ear and giggled to herself that after-sex giggle that virtually all women do — the one that’s followed by a sigh of release and satisfaction. She was enjoying the feeling of the throb each time it happened.

She would later state that she loved the fact that multiple orgasms were involved. She loved pleasing me and being pleased, knowing that she was bringing me to the heights of pleasure without ending the sex. In all of the years of seeing her smile, I’d never seen her smile quite so defeatedly as if to bask in the momentary pleasure and surprise entirely, without hindrance from external thoughts or internal worries, just able to focus on the fact that we were engaging in pure, carnal sex.

Most women have had the same reaction. They’re a little apprehensive at first. Let’s face it, people lie about their talents all the time, especially when it comes to sex. I think most women assume it’s just fluff talk, like other stupid things people say in the lead-up to sex. But once they find out that you’re the real deal, they’re more than enthused to be having sex with someone who has so much control. If you think about it, the time it takes us to orgasm, if our bodies are left up to their own devices, is rather arbitrary. It certainly stops sex from being what it could be.

Once we learn to master our bodies and our orgasms and ejaculations as men, we open up a world where we can now control the timing of our sex, which is extremely important. This doesn’t just go one-way, either, it doesn’t mean that if we have PE or ejaculate on the quicker side, that we’ll be able to go on for hours (though that can happen, too, and it has happened to me), but it also means that we can conduct quickies faster and in a more focused way. We can basically tailor our sexual build-up to suit the amount of time and atmosphere we have to work with.

It’s a very spiritual experience, really. Becoming multi-orgasmic is very much in line with the teachings about tantric sex. It teaches us to replace our focus, away from the linear straight line onward, down, down toward the orgasm, and to observe the sexual experience as a whole. Mindfulness during sex is amazing.

Ejaculation control, multiple orgasms, and a more fulfilling sex life for both or all partners involved. That isn’t to say that if you don’t (yet) have control over these things, your sex life is bad, but it means that the quality of anyone’s sex lives is directly up to the participants involved, no one external gets to be the judge and that the decision to enhance our sex lives falls squarely on us as individuals because of this.

As men, I firmly believe that any of us can have multiple orgasms if we’re diligent and willing to put in the time and effort to learn the self-restraint, self-control, and self-mastery of our own bodies understand such a practice. I learned it many years ago and I’m thoroughly happy with the results.

The first time women experience a man who’s multi-orgasmic, they generally don’t know how to react, like my friend didn’t. We’re so used to a very linear and ordinary sex narrative that we see everywhere, from porn to our bedrooms, and any change in this process is both exciting and, let’s face it, can make people a little nervous. But once we settle into the groove, the ability to control ourselves is nothing shy of wonderful and the resulting connections we build and our ability to get one another off over the course of the sex, without it resulting in the end of the sex are nothing shy of spiritual.

I encourage every man out there to give it a try and attempt to become multi-orgasmic for themselves. Beyond just the amazing sex that comes along with such a task, there’s a serious sense of pride that we get when we master and control our own bodies in ways we never thought possible. I cannot emphasize enough what this can do to your confidence and becoming multi-orgasmic is something that every man can do by himself at home. All it takes is time, dedication, focus, and a willingness to try new things. Being multi-orgasmic, to me, is about more than just having multiple orgasms during sex — it’s about me being in control of my body, rather than my body being the judge, jury, and executioner who decides when sex is over without me so much as having the slightest hint of a say in the matter.

Usually, women can feel us having an orgasm inside of them. They can feel us tense up and throb — they can feel us pulsate with every miniature seizure of erupting pleasure, a pleasure that they know they are the cause of. Very little will make a woman smile as much as knowing she was able to drive someone to the heights of pleasure multiple times, without having to suddenly stop and worry about cleaning up and getting dressed. Orgasms are better without the little death that follows.

Multiple orgasms in men seem to be a thing of myths, for most people. An urban legend you might hear about, but it’s never going to happen to you. But it’s extremely possible, I believe, for just about anyone. There are some rather vague, click-bait articles online that discuss it in brief as an overview without much depth, so, having learned the skill myself, I wrote an article that serves as sort of a play-by-play on how you can do it too (found below). If you succeed, I also encourage you to share your stories with others — spread the gospel, my brethren.

More often than not, women are amazed by a man’s ability to have multiple orgasms and still continue the sex at hand; they marvel at the ability and self-control necessary, and it leads to rewards which should be quite self-explanatory. But don’t take my word for it…I’m interested to see who all out there is willing to gain a mastery over themselves and find the rich and enjoyable wealth of experience that becoming multi-orgasmic can bring them. I think if we all had a bit more fulfilling of sex lives, the world might be a better place.

For the multi-orgasmic men of the world, myself included, the orgasm doesn’t signify the end of sex, but rather, an amazing moment where pleasure is maximized — but there’s still more to come.

Thank you for reading. For more on the subject and how you might be able to learn the ability to have multiple orgasms, I’d suggest checking out the book that got me started, The Multi-Orgasmic Man: Sexual Secrets That Every Man Should Know, available here through an affiliate link on Amazon (I may make a small commission).

Below, I’ve also included my own how-to guide which discusses the important things that helped me achieve multi-orgasmic status.Men and Multiple OrgasmsThe In-Depth Guide on Becoming a Multi-Orgasmic Man