Erotic Review Magazine

by Jane Ions / 7th February 2017

Lee presses Sally over her night wear.

Well, I’ve knocked that Flood Gran clean out of the water.  She can sink or swim as far as our local press are concerned.  Nobody cares about her or her insurance policies any more, because I am the Gran of the moment.

‘MP SPOUSE GRAN REVEALS ALL!’ says the billboard outside the Co-op.  And that’s me.

I asked Bill last night whether he thought I’d blown everything with the Breakfast TV interview.

He said no, he didn’t think so.  He said the team had watched the interview and decided that I had come across as unprepared and a bit bonkers, but essentially amiable and well intentioned.  They didn’t think it would be especially damaging.  It wasn’t unusual for a high profile man to have a slightly dotty wife.

So, I’m just a bit bonkers but essentially well intentioned.  I’m not sure how reassuring that is, but it will have to do for now.

Bill says he will have to deal with some quips about my nightwear, or lack of it.  He has already been asked if there was any truth in the rumour that he was too mean to buy me a pair of pyjamas this Christmas.

He said if anyone says anything to me when I’m out and about, I should smile and wave but don’t rise to any bait, because it will bite back.  I reminded him that a significant part of my teaching career had been spent cautioning children about their tendency to impetuous and ill-considered remarks.  This was something I knew about.  Good, he said.  That’s fine then.

I was in school today, as it happens.  In a maths lesson with Lee.  I didn’t think there was much chance he would have seen or heard about my TV interview, but he is surprisingly well informed.

‘Miss,’ he said when he saw me, ‘I heard on the telly you don’t wear no pyjamas in bed.’

I was calm and unruffled, and said wisely, ‘You shouldn’t believe everything you hear on TV, Lee.’

‘But you said it.  On the telly the other morning.  I heard you.’

‘Well, what of it Lee?  It’s not very interesting news.  Let’s think about your maths.’

‘My dad thought it was interesting.  He thinks you’re not bad looking.  For an old person.’

‘Well, thanks for that Lee,’ I said.  ‘I’ll cherish the thought.  Now then,’ I pointed to his exercise book, ‘what’s three times nought?’

‘Nought,’ he said.  ‘I’m surprised you don’t get cold in bed with no pyjamas on.’

‘I’m warm enough thank you, now let’s move on.  Nought?  It can’t be nought.’

‘It is.  It’s nought.  You could just wear the trouser part, on cold nights.  If you wanted.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind.  How can three times nought be nought?  Think about it.’

‘I am thinking about it.  Or you could just wear the top part.  But then your bum would get cold.’

‘I’m grateful for your concern, Lee, but let’s keep my bum out of this if you don’t mind.  Concentrate, – three, multiplied by nothing, is – ?’

‘Like I said, – nothing.  You could try a nightie.  Some women wear nighties.’

The maths teacher was doing his rounds, so I motioned him over to our table and said, ‘Mr Parks, Lee is having a bit of a problem with three times nought.  I’ve told him it’s three, but he’s insisting its nought.  Can you help us out here?’

Mr Parks is a maths teacher and sometimes the subtleties of a situation can escape him.

‘Lee’s absolutely right,’ he said.  ‘And you’re wrong.  Three times nought is nought.  How could it be otherwise? Well done, Lee.  Crack on.’

Lee looked at me with cheerful concern.  ‘You’re not very good at maths, are you Miss?  You’re good on the telly though.  My dad says you’re the funniest thing since Morecombe and Wise.’

Sally’s Diary is a story told in serial form. To start from the beginning, click here.

Like this article.... Try this one: West African Scorcher
Lee presses Sally over her night wear.


Leave a Reply