Monday, 3 May 2021

Winds Of Change

It's very likely that this last year has has some effect on us all, and unless you are a member of SAGE, the government or a shareholder in AstraZeneca and Amazon that effect was probably going to be negative.  Swathes of industries have been affected, it's personnel swept along in the tide, from manufacturing to retail to hospitality.

Of course, when the pubs re-opened on the 12th April for outside drinking and dining, I was there to offer some support to my local bar... despite the untropical temperatures which at least kept my cocktail nicely chilled until it was finished.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - a cold cocktail

I'm not sure which category statisticians would put 'sex worker', but hospitality might come close.  If so, I can confirm it's been a hell of a year for that whole group.  From the Ritz and Dorchester hotels all the way down to your local escort/sex worker, the industry has been - unfairly, in my opinion - targeted by the government as a main contributor to the ongoing coronavirus issue... despite being scientifically proven to be not the case.

Either way, we've been fucked - and in the case of sex workers, not literally, unfortunately.  It's meant a significant downturn in income across the board, from street girls to girls in hotels to Dominatrixes in their quiet dungeons.  I've certainly felt the restrictions - and probably like many, it's been a time for reflection and reassessment.

It's a long time since I began operating from an apartment instead of hotel rooms - my first boudoir was way back in July 2012.  I'd already been enjoying life as a sex worker for around a year by then, so 2021 signifies a full decade in the life for me.  However, my time for reflection and reassessment has resulted in another big change. I've decided to leave my apartment, and also say goodbye to living in Altrincham.  The town, like me, has changed over the last ten years - there was a old tired market here when I first came and lots and lots of empty shop units.  Some of those shop units remain, but the town itself has been rejuvenated.  In a sense it will be sad to leave, but I won't be moving too far away - to Northwich in Cheshire.  

However, the new change in circumstances means that in-calls will no longer be an option.  I will only be able to offer early evening outcalls from June onwards.  Although this will impact my 'business', it's a change I'm excited about, as there other positive changes going on, too - and after a year of negativity and gloom they are much-needed changes.  Operating from an apartment was never going to be a life-long choice, anyway, and the last year has, like many businesses, brought forward a need to adapt and change with the times.  When the winds of change are blowing, it is better to build a windmill than a windbreak.

What about the blog?  It's been obviously quiet this for the last fourteen months, with little to actually write about.  It's been incredibly frustrating as it is a real labour of love, but as I said in my last post, this was never set up to debate politics and the like - it was for writing about the genuinely important things in life, such as love, sex, fun and experiences.  The other knock-on effect has been a scarcity of photo opportunities - also frustrating.  Given that, the blog will continue, and as the year unfolds there may be only a whisper, and deep-space glimmer of starlight and hope, that we can return to life at some point.  Sadly, I have as much hope in the government re-opening the country on 21st June as I do winning the lottery (odds on the lottery are probably better, in fact), so it's hard at the moment to see a time I can write about sex parties, etc. again.  However, other stuff may be happening - indeed, I can see some things being pushed 'underground' if this continues - I've heard more than a few tales of country pubs quietly remaining open for regular customers for the last year.  Prohibition never works, and the current decrees of banning everything (apparently we will be allowed to legally 'hug' someone soon, FFS) means lots of things will disappear from sight but just carry on anyway.  I've never been a fan of a controlling, draconian governmental approach (it would be hard to do so, given my line of work and the necessary 'grey' areas we sometimes operate in), so I'm all in favour of subversive human behaviour - particularly if those endeavours are in search of the important things in life, like love, sex, fun and experiences.

Either way, life will continue in some form and I'm looking forward to writing again, and my new chosen path may give me some freedom to live, to breathe, to smile and have fun again.

Sunday, 4 April 2021

Power To The People

Wow - well, here we are, into the first week of April and my first blog post of the year,  Usually by this point I've done five or six, but of course we live in extraordinary times; there's that old Chinese curse of "May you live in interesting times", and I think the world was 'blessed' with this and perhaps another kind of Chinese curse early last year.

The thing is, when I set up this blog all those years ago I wanted to write about the fun stuff - clubs, sex, parties, the escorting scene and experiences.  Rather like polite conversation, I definitely didn't want to debate politics or religion, but after the last twelve months the problem is there is little left to actually write, or even talk, about.  Even with friends, the conversation ends up being about covid, or at least the struggles with the government-induced measures.  Added on to that is the fact that for the best part of a year there's been fuck-all else to do.  Ergo, write about covid, or don't write.

So we find ourselves here at Easter 2021, over a year on from "three weeks to flatten the curve", stuck in the same place.  Or not... Eostre (as in the ancient Goddess) was a symbol of fertility, of Spring, of rebirth.  The move out of the shadows of winter to the life-giving new season.  How ironic, then, that in this brave new twisted world the government have seen fit at this moment of glorious rebirth to move our free and liberal society into an internal vaccine passport scheme that, in another twist of our old laws, now deems you guilty unless proven otherwise.  I can only imagine the repulsion that I, and likely many, many others, will feel come Rembrance Day 2021 and the flatulent fuckers from the government stench out the Cenotaph 'honouring' those who died for our liberty... that liberty that they have willing, duplicitously, and greedily just shit all over.  The fight continues; and as current PM Johnson is apparently such a big fan of Churchill, let us remind him...

"We shall go on to the end... we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.”

Anyway, back to Eostre, or the more modern interpretation... Easter.  At some point in your life you may have wondered at what point in the Easter stories of Jesus the eggs and rabbits made an appearance.  Of course they didn't - they are the leftovers from the Goddess celebrations; the rabbits signifying fertility, the eggs signifying purity.  Just this week I had a little telephone call from C, a gentleman visitor, to tell me that he'd left an Easter egg outside my apartment.  A lovely gesture, and something I decided to put to good use immediately.

 

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Easter Egg.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Easter Egg.


Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Easter Egg.
 

On another positive note, I decided to brazenly flout Boris Johnson's 'guidance' (not the law, note) and have a day out of Manchester.  It was a lovely trip, even though I went through rain, heavy snow (on the top of the Pennines), hail, sleet, bright sunshine and torrential rain all in one day.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - not Manchester!

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - another... not Manchester!

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - high heels and stockings... not in Manchester.

I know some may take some offence at breaking 'guidance', but as Johnson clearly and willingly ignores the previously set-in-stone laws of the land, I take it that we can all do similar in future.  Anyway, it did wonders for my mood and health, and I fully endorse anyone needing similar to take Johnson's own lead - ignore the laws and guidance.

See?  Back to covid/lockdown/what-a-shitbag-for-a-PM discussions already.

In all seriousness, the announcements of vaccine passport trials (yeah, we've heard lies like that before, Johnson) is a dark day for the civil liberties, democracy and freedoms of this country.  Even those who have had the vaccine (and I'm not a covid-denier/anti-vax person) must see this for what it really is - it will become the first step into state-controlled excursion into every part of our private life, where we will simply become monetised victims to whatever government is in charge - products to be managed, controlled and profited from, as the goal-posts to retain that freedom pass will become an every-increasing drain on our individual wealth and liberty.

I had my census form recently, and debated about putting it in the bin or filling it out.  I decided to fill it out, taking some pleasure in putting down my occupation (I was tempted to put "By Nazis", given the current regime) but stuck with 'Sex Worker'.  I hope they love that when they compile the figures.  I've never done street-work as a sex worker previously, but this government is certainly driving me to hit the streets... albeit for a different reason.

"Say we want a revolution, 
We better get on right away,
We'll get you on your feet and out on the street singing 
Power to the people"
John Lennon

 

Chocolate, revolutions, Nazis, mountains and celebrations.  All in one post.  What a bizarre world we are currently living in.


Friday, 25 December 2020

Goodbye 2020 - Good Riddance

 "Hallelujah, Noel, be it Heaven or Hell,  
The Christmas we get we deserve."
 
So sang sadly-missed Greg Lake in his Christmas classic "I Believe In Father Christmas".  So, I wonder what Christmas we'll all have after the year that we've endured.  
 
Have I been good?  Well, I've had some bloody good times in my boudoir, but I'm pretty convinced that Mother Theresa and Matt Hancock will probably think that at times I've been exceptionally bad.  On the other hand, like millions, I've had a lot of fun curtailed for the last nine months... fetish events, ballet shows, theatre performances, vintage events and music concerts all cancelled that I was looking forward to and had tickets for.  At the rate we are going it could be another nine months before anything changes; by then we could be onto 'covid strain #186' and Tier 18.  Who the fuck knows?  Certainly not the government, who seem to make up more fairy tales than Hans Christian Andersen and with more regularity than hourly news updates.  As a girl who lives on the fringes of society and (some people's) morality, it sort of goes with the territory to mistrust heavy-handed government diktats and authority.

It's all certainly got more confusing as the year has gone on.  Rules of six, bubbles, meeting in pubs OK but not in the home, then meeting at home OK but meeting in pubs not allowed, being able to work with numerous colleagues but not trusted to sit with them in pubs and restaurants... it's like the Chuckle Brothers have somehow found themselves with the power of government.  "To me, to you, to me to you..."  I'd actually prefer the Chuckle Brothers, as I think they'd make more sense.

As challenging as 2020 has been, I think bigger challenges lie in wait for 2021 - not least the fight to have many of those freedoms and liberties that we have enjoyed returned to us: I will remain distrustful of our elected leaders until that happens.

However, the human spirit remains indomitable, so I remain hopeful that collectively we will come together and regain the lives and democracy that millions have fought for, be they military personnel, women's rights supporters or civil rights and racial equality fighters.  It is our duty to protect the delicate and fragile democracy we have for future generations - it is not ours to squander cheaply and without question for implied safety from fleeting fear.
 
"Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Benjamin Franklin
  
“Timid men prefer the calm of despotism to the tempestuous sea of liberty.” Thomas Jefferson

So, I'd to thank those who have visited me this year, and those that have enjoyed the blog - I hope all those posts in the first lockdown kept you entertained.  Even with my extensive back catalogue of photos I think I'd have run out of pictures by now had I been waiting for normality to return before stopping the daily posts!

I'd like to wish you all a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year; let us all make sure that next year ends in a much better place than this one is.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort


Monday, 30 November 2020

December Will Be Magic Again... I Hope

It seems that in the country-wide haste to get rid of 2020 and introduce some cheer into the world, Christmas has truly arrived earlier than December.  Friends who normally put up their Christmas trees and decorations in the middle of December have already succumbed to the 'get in early' theme, and have merrily posted photos of social media of their bright and cheerful decorative skills.  

It's not unusual that the shops are already bedaubed like tinselled tarts, too, but in these rather challenging times for the high street there's more than a hint of desperation there, perhaps, to try and have a good end to the worst of years.

But it is a veneer as thin as a shiny glass tree bauble, sadly.  The shops remain shut - at least until the 2nd December.  The pubs, usually busy with Christmas parties and those getting the ale in early, are even worse off.  Shut through lockdown, they are effectively shut after lockdown, too, as the three-tier system effectively keeps their doors closed to their normal seasonal trade.  Even in tier two they can only serve alcohol with a  meal, reducing their operating footfall on top of the now tedious covid space restrictions.

With social venues now closed, the obvious meeting place is the street.  Even though the local busy-body council and self-appointed morality police have banned on-street drinking, mingling and probably laughing it has largely gone unheeded - and long may it continue.  The damaging and distruptive micro-management of our lives has gone too far.  

A few weekends ago I met up with a few friends and we sat and had a coffee in the town centre.  It was just after 4.00pm. but already the streets were becoming disturbingly quiet and dead.  Suddenly the town Christmas lights burst into action - a pre-run of the official switching on the day after.  

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Altrincham Lights

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Altrincham Lights

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Altrincham Lights

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - of course we'll behave...

A day later, and another Groundhog Day (as this year is), we were sat in the same place when the switch-on happened for real.  A few people milled around, looked at the lights, and wandered home. One woman said to me "Is that it, then?", disappointedly.  I didn't know if she meant life, the year or the lights.  The answer was the same - "Yes".  She sighed and wandered off into the closing night.  

As cheerful as the small display was, it remained a bit forlorn.  A year ago the town was bursting with families and friends, bustling in and out of the shops and bars, crowding the pedestriansed areas to see the lights, meet up with friends and have a few drinks whilst doing some Christmas shopping.  This year, our group of four made up a significant part of the 'crowd'.  It won't get better anytime soon, either: sadly, as we come out of a second national lockdown we are heading (at least here in Greater Manchester) back into tier three.  Oh yes, and about that second National Lockdown to 'Save Chirstmas'?  It didn't do very fucking well, did it?

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - WTF

So much for 'saving Christmas', then. That must be the final proof that lockdowns have no effect and the government have no idea what they are doing.

My hopes of attending a little fetish event before the year is out have diminished to the size of Matt Hancock's morality, and I'm getting doubtful about anything returning early next year.  2020 might have been horrendous, but 2021 will not usher in a quick change of direction, I fear.  I watched a film yesterday that featured a heaving nightclub - it made me realise again what I am missing.  As Lord Sumption said, "What sort of life do we think we are protecting? There is more to life than the avoidance of death. Life is a drink with friends. Life is a crowded football match or a live concert. Life is a family celebration with children and grandchildren. Life is companionship, an arm around one’s back, laughter or tears shared at less than two metres. These things are not just optional extras. They are life itself. They are fundamental to our humanity, to our existence as social beings. Of course death is permanent, whereas joy may be temporarily suspended. But the force of that point depends on how temporary it really is."

In the absence of visiting hotels for a long weekend/clubbing break, I took the opportunity for a few more photos in my mirrored boudoir.  Some high heeled ankle boots. crotchless tights, leather studded belt and a beautiful leather jacket from German leather specialists 'Crazy Outfits' - a lovely gift from a special gentleman.  To tie in with this post, this sums up my feelings for 2020...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - spin on this, 2020.

But, there's still December and Christmas to get through, and I'm determined to have as much fun as I can, regardless of government decrees.  I'll end with words from Bill and Ted, Kate Bush, and dearly departed Joe Cocker: Party On, Dudes, December Will Be Magic Again: I Shall Be Released.






Sunday, 15 November 2020

Here I Go Again...

Well, how the world turns.  A few weeks ago all I was bothered about was my aching back and its unfortunate consequence of an unsated libido.

Now, the world burns in a collective meltdown of fear, cold sweats and pain, thanks to that bloody virus.  All plans on hold, countries in stasis and limbo, and people left with an unknown future.

Wait.  Hold on a moment.  I've done this before.  Yes, March.  March, for fuck's sake, and now we're here in November doing the same thing again - lockdown.  I thought the idea of lockdown was sensible back then; now... I'm think the old adage "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results" is more apt.  I know, I know; the danger of hospitals getting overrun... but the truth is (and this was told to me on an induction day at a Manchester hospital back in 2001) the north west hospitals are always overrun this time of the year with pneumonia/influenza patients.  Nothing new, then... and I still fear that the lockdowns and restrictions are hurting people and society in so many other ways.

At least, if the government aren't blatant liars and snake oil salesmen that is (hahahaha), we'll be out of it on December 2nd... but we'll be going back into Tier 3 rather than any real normality, of course.  Here I Go Again, as David Coverdale sang... which is a perfect excuse to post this...


Mr Coverdale was always a rather nice looking chap, but sadly, David, I'd always preferred that gorgeous redhead in the video - Tawny Kitaen.

In October I reached another birthday, and Halloween came and went (with a good night out, though).  It was maybe passing another birthday that prompted me to look through my old photos this weekend, and I sadly realised that it was a year ago that I was in Brighton for a fabulously rude and carnal Zara DuRose event.  What a difference a year makes - it seems a lifetime ago.  I've used one photo from that visit for this week's Picture Of The Week that never made it to the blog or website before, just out of remembrance for things lost.

Speaking of remembrance, last Sunday was of course Remembrance Sunday.  I headed over to Manchester's Cenotaph at St. Peter's Square and gave my silent gratitude to those who had paid my balance in full.

 

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Cenotaph, Manchester.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Cenotaph, Manchester.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Cenotaph, Manchester.

Afterwards, I had a walk into Piccadilly Gardens and found a rather large group of people protesting at the current curtailment of the very liberties that many of those fallen had been fighting for.  If that sounds somewhat overblown and exaggerated, then Lord Sumption, former Senior Supreme Judge, feels the same way regarding our failure to adhere to democracy and parliamentary process.  In his lecture 'Government By Decree', he states how the democtratic process has, at best, been abused, at worst blatantly ignored and discarded...

"The British public has not even begun to understand the seriousness of what is happening to our country. Many, perhaps most of them don’t care, and won’t care until it is too late. They instinctively feel that the end justifies the means, the motto of every totalitarian government which has ever been.

 Yet what holds us together as a society is precisely the means by which we do things. It is a common respect for a way of making collective decisions, even if we disagree with the decisions themselves. It is difficult to respect the way in which this government’s decisions have been made. It marks a move to a more authoritarian model of politics which will outlast the present crisis. There is little doubt that for some ministers and their advisers this is a desirable outcome. 

The next few years is likely to see a radical and lasting transformation of the relationship between the state and the citizen. With it will come an equally fundamental change in our relations with each other, a change characterized by distrust, resentment and mutual hostility. In the nature of things, authoritarian governments fracture the societies which they govern. 

The use of political power as an instrument of mass coercion is corrosive. It divides and it embitters. In this case, it is aggravated by the sustained assault on social interaction which will sooner or later loosen the glue that helped us to deal with earlier crises."

I then had a little stroll around the city centre, and it was the busiest I'd seen it since last Winter.  Crowds, getting gently jostled as people walked along.  It actually felt invigorating, joyful and... normal, to be part of the human race again.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - a city centre stroll, Manchester.

Eventually I made my way back to the Cenotaph at St. Peter's Square, and the crowd, by chance, was there again.  I managed to speak to quite a few of the marchers, and none of them were worried about lizards taking control or 5G masts - they were worried about healthcare, about their jobs and homes, and about the demise of democracy.  Lord Sumption would understand.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - a city centre stroll, Manchester.

The massive crowd made its way back to Piccadilly Gardens.  As it was the direction I was going I was swept along, people thronging around me like the old days.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Piccadilly Gardens, Manchester.

There were a few more speeches, and I headed back home.  An interesting and very thought-provoking day.  

 In fact, I'm amazed that I manged a city centre stroll at all.  The reason?  The day before, and in desperate need of some fresh air and a change of scenery, I had a six hour walk.  I won't say a thoroughly enjoyable walk, as the last two hours were really a bit painful for my tired legs and feet, but at least I was out and enjoying nature.

 I started out very early, in time to capture the lovely early morning mists, delicate frost, warm rich colours and sunrise over Cheshire.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

A couple of hours later I'd made it to the little town of Lymm, bypassing the centre by staying on the country pathway.  By this point the sun was just warming the day slightly, and the lovely gentle views were wonderful.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

A short while after I turned onto the serene Bridgewater Canal, that would take me all the way back to Altrincham.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

The Autumnal shades were delightful, and the hazy mist over the canal gave a haunted beauty to the scenery.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

 I finally had some lunch at a little bench in the centre of Lymm, joined by a lonely ladybird that seemed to be mooching about a little late in the year.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

 From there it was as simple stroll back along the canal to Altrincham.  Now, I say simple, but in reality it turned into a yomping-style slog, the last leg of which seemed to last forever.  There were still lovely things to look at, but the camera came out less and less as I trudged onwards, towards the end only concentrating on where my aching feet were going.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

 Eventually I reached the big weeping willow trees that told me that I was finally back in Altrincham - appropriate, as I felt a little like weeping from tiredness by that point.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Autumn views.

Although I was glad to back and rest, it remained a worthwhile walk, and at these difficult times I'd strongly suggest re-connecting with nature and your fellow man at every opportunity.  It reminds us who we are, and what is important.

I'll end with another unused photo from a year ago - to remind me of what is also important.  Life, love, fun, laughing, friendship and freedom of movement.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - one year ago... another time, another place.




Sunday, 25 October 2020

A Frightful Time Of The Year

It was just this week that I received a text message asking when I was going to add another post to my Blog, seeing as it was early September the last time I did one.  By curious coincidence, I did plan one this week as I felt a need to update my own thoughts.

But it really doesn't feel like nearly seven weeks ago since I last wrote anything, such is the 'Groundhog Day' effect of the currently societal climate.  The days are pretty much the same, segueing into one another with little perceptible change as we drift through the year like rafted sailors adrift on the ocean seas.

As I look out of the window I can see the leaves on the trees are turning from lush verdant green to bright yellows, glimmering golds, bronzed browns and flamed reds, telling me that, like a bright but brief butterfly, summer has flown and the warm beauty of Autumn has arrived in her stead.  I  love Autumn; the scent of distant bonfires in the air... the chilled misted mornings... the rich velveteen colours so different but just as lovely as the bright explosions of Spring and palette perfection of Summer... the drawing in of the nights,,, the delivery of Mother Nature's bounty in the orchards, pumpkin patches and shimmered fields of gold, ready to be harvested.

John Keats saw similar glories of the season on one country walk in September 1819,composing the beautiful stanzas of 'To Autumn' on his reflections...

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
    With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
        To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
    With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
        For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
    Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
    Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
    Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
        Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
    Steady thy laden head across a brook;
    Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
        Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
    Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
    And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
    Among the river sallows, borne aloft
        Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
    Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
    The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
        And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

There is a melancholic sadness to the poem, too, as Autumn begins her own 'adieu', and the birds gather for leaving as Winter approaches.  This is the other side to Autumn; a time for reflection, a sometimes sombre silence to remember the year (Rembrance Day could be held in no other season, surely) and be quietly thankful for the gifts we have.  For as Autumn slowly casts off her golden gown and the leaves of her jewelled mantle fall, so it feels like some of our hopes and dreams are also cast to the wind, sometimes to be trodden underfoot... especially this year of all years.  Life is now put on hold, ambitions and dreams laid to one side or laid to waste, and the worries that the Winter will bring hardship and desolation are dimming the soft warm light.

But sometimes that golden carpet of shedded Autumn contains seeds, too, that will wait until the right time to grow, stretch for the open skies and bloom.  From those small Autumnal acorns we may indeed see mightly oaks; but we must be mindful to tend to them closely, such is fragility of hopes and dreams.

I try and stay away from making this blog too political, as a real democracy allows all sorts of differing viewpoints and all can be valid, but on this occasion I will break the rule and state that the government's heavy-handed, misguided and over-reaching reaction is diametrically opposed to old King Canute.  The old story of King Canute trying to command the sea was, in fact, Canute proving to his court that he could not control all things, and somethings have a will and nature of their own.  Our current government seem to think the opposite - despite being unable to control the common cold, influenza and pneumonia, and a myriad of other ailments throughout the ages they appear to think this one can be mollified and contained.  In that plan they are bulldozing a way of life, a society and individual lives to prove it - collateral damage is an acceptable martyr, it seems.  In Wales, as I write, it is no longer lawful to buy baby clothes, books and kitchen utensils, amongst other 'non-essential' things... but you can still buy alcohol (not that I'm a member of the Temperance Society, of course), tobacco and lots of unhealthy food - indeed, a government that decrees that gyms must close whilst fast-food outlets can remain open is proof that politicians of any leaning should have limited powers only, just like those assigned to a petty-minded incompetent middle-manager.  Which is pretty much what they all are.

For myself, it's been an unusually quiet time of the year.  Autumn is usually 'party season', where the fetish and alternative clubs begin gearing up for their finale blast of the year, so there's normally always something to look forward to.  Indeed, plans for some booked Autumn events were scuppered in the early summer for many of these, such is the government policy of the year.  Without being able to travel and visit differnt towns and clubs, I've not really had the opportunity to indulge in some photography.  That meant a little shoot in my 'boudoir' of course as noted in the last post - I hope those who follow my weekly updated photo liked the leather/mask set (I still have a few left over, I think), like this one...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Leather Bitch

With Halloween approaching, however, this weekend I was out and about; seeking some suitably discrete and spooky woods in order to do some zombie/ghost photos.  If you can't have a mess around with costumes and a bit of silly Photoshop, when can you?

My outfit, if you could call it that, consisted of a rather Carry-On style machete and some scanty 'bloodied' table covers as a 'dress'.  Then it was a case of tramping into a bit of woodland - not easy in high heels, although they don't even show in the photos - and posing in the chilly night for some quick photos.  Despite the remote location, it wasn't long before another car parked up and I suddenly had a bit of an audience, as I was still in sight of the car park.

The photoshoot was therefore sadly curtailed, but at least I got a couple of photos - enough for this week and of course Halloween itself.  As Halloween falls on Saturday, I put the first photo up yesterday and the next will also go up a day early - next Saturday.  Here's one from the little collection that hasn't been tampered with, unlike the Picture Of The Week ones where I've decided to have a go at a different effect.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight...

So I'm at least looking forward to Halloween and a night out - even if it's just a local bar with friends.  Am I allowed to drink with friends?  Who knows, and anyway it could all change by next weekend anyway!

I hope you have an enjoyable Halloween - and remember... whatever spooks, ghosts, ghouls, demons and devils venture into our world on All Hallows Eve next weekend as the boundary between the living and the dead merges, one thing we can be sure of: the state of our current world will frighten them all back to the safety of the Hell they came from.

Sunday, 6 September 2020

Strange Fruit

Life is a lottery, or so the saying goes.  It certainly feels a little like a lottery with every choice you make (those that you can in these slightly restricted times, that is).  Go on a well-deserved holiday into mainland Europe and... bingo - your numbers have come in.  Two hours after landing you suddenly find your country of choice is now on the UK government's quarantine blacklist, and you have precisely twelve hours to get back or face quarantine for two weeks on your return, a la Mission Impossible.  In these 'un-normal' times where job security is at risk across nearly all sectors, the chances of having an understanding and flexible employer in such situations is probably rare, so the two-week holiday becomes a four hour break at the airport before flying immediately back.  No wonder people are choosing to have a break in their home country this year... but with the threats of 'local lockdowns' now the new strategy (I'll use that term lightly as 'strategy' implies some kind of plan... and a plan is clearly not what we have) you could still find yourself going somewhere that has seen 'cases' (again, remember when it was about hospital admissions and deaths?) doubling to 35 per 100,000 people (like here in Trafford... yes, that's 35 people out of 100,000 people, so 0.035%) and you could be holidaying in a  lockdown area pretty much overnight.

What to do?

I decided to enjoy another long canal-side walk and go 'brambling' to get away from the worldwide madness.  Even now, in early September, there are plenty of lovely plump little brambles to pluck.  Like other things in life, they've got to be just right. A lovely big one can be a little disappointing in the pleasure it gives once it gets to your lips, whilst smaller ones can have your pleasure-ometer bouncing off the scale.  Also, they need to be a nice firmness.  Too soft, and even the big ones are no good - you don't want them exploding their juice all over your fingers as soon as you touch them.  There were plenty of occasions where I got my hand into a bush to fondle a lovely-looking specimen only to find it spraying my exploring fingers with sticky fluid.  There seems to be a lovely calibration whereby the right size, firmness, plumpness and oral delight merge perfectly to bring pleasure.

I managed to get a decent amount, actually, and finished my walk rewarded with some lovely brambles and some lovely views, too...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - hazy canal, Cheshire.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - rolling Cheshire countryside.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - NOT brambles, but lovely to look at.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - lovely late-summer shapes.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - more summer-haze canals.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - and another hazy, lazy view.

As for the brambles... I forgot to take a photo of the them until a few days later and I'd been enjoying them with my morning breakfast.  This, at least, is what was left by then...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - what was left of my brambles.

I also had another go at getting some photographs outside in a public park - once again thwarted by families and members of the (now) paranoid public, whereby any behavior outside of the norm (like lingering around waiting for a photo opportunity) is met with suspicion, distrust and a watchful eye, so gave up again.  It's one thing being caught by a surprised and suddenly very happy dog walker/stroller 'in flagrante', and quite another to be caught out by the paramilitary public police who now seem to confront unconforming behaviour with hostility or a call to the real paranoid police.

So, it was time for a re-think, and in the end I donned my leather thigh boots and corset, strap-on and hood for some photographs in my little boudoir.

At least I finally got some new photos for my website - I used one last week on the Picture Of The Week section, and there'll be a few more over the coming weeks... a little like this...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - leather lover.

So, if you love a little leather and anonymous lust, keep checking the website.