Article Women !!

It's weird the things you think about whilst kiting.

Let me start at the beginning.. you see, some would call it luck that I'm married to a beautiful tall blonde nearly 10 years younger than me. 'Yeah yeah whatever' I hear you say 'what's this got to do with kiting?', well, you don't yet know the point to this little story. You see, there's this song by someone I forget, called... I forget that too. But the bit I do remember says 'when you're in love with a beautiful woman, it's hard'. It's an old song, a very old song. Where did I get too?

Ah yes.. anyway, I am married, and being married calls for a certain amount of commitment. Being married also means that occasionally you will come into contact with the darker side of a woman. The devious side, it's the side you don't see unless you're married, the side that has a way of making you do thing you would not ordinarily do, without even knowing that you're doing them. You see, if 'the missus' doesn't want you to go kiting, she won't tell you she doesn't want you to go. Ohhh no, what she'll do is tell you to go. Even if she only has a suspicion that you may go but you're keeping it a secret until the last minute, she'll suggest you go.

Now any normal man would think 'great' and go. Now hold on, you see, even before you start filling your flask, checking your kites, and packing the change of clothes for after you get dragged through that muddy puddle you noticed on arrival. You know the one.. it's the one you made a point of setting up as far away as possible from, but always upwind of. It's the one with the strange magnetic pull. It's also the one all the dogs have ****** in.

Well whilst you're still thinking about packing your stuff, she's already on the phone to her mates, booking the weekend in Magaluf. She's also making a point of walking around the kitchen whilst on said phone, saying things like 'big it up' and 'do it large' in a louder than normal voice. I'd like to point out at this stage that I don't actually know what these things mean nor entail, but they sound expensive. The ten-year age gap does create certain language barriers. You've usually got your back to her, but you just know she's watching you, waiting for any sign of weakness.

Now being dragged through dog **** on Cleethorpes beach on a damp grey Sunday morning, followed by a long drive home in clothes still wet around the crotch because again you forgot the change of clothes, sand chaffing in the crack of your arse, although not a bad thing to be doing, is by no stretch of the imagination similar to a weekend in Magaluf. You know this, I know this and she knows this. Now what she's hoping, is that you're going to lose your bottle. You'll come up with some reason to not actually go. This is what normally happens. But I'm onto her.... So this time I decided to call her bluff, play hard ball. I ignored the bait.

Ooh.. that reminds me. Strange powers are at work. A Couple of weeks ago I was on the beach, and I know in the 21st century PC liberal world we live in I'm not really supposed to admit that I find some women attractive (did I say some? I mean just you dear), and some not so attractive... well picture this, I was really motoring down the beach on my board, shirt off, muscles of my tanned body shimmering in the evening sun. The 6.6 just gliding along above the waves. When I noticed up ahead a couple of hot chics, alone, 10 o'clock.

I locked onto target and leant back as hard as I could, but for the life of me I just couldn't get near them. It was like there was some strange power forcing me away from them. I tried and tried, believe me I tried, but the more I tried to turn into the wind, the more the board started to slide the other way. It was a good run with probably a mile of hard compacted sand, a run not to be wasted, and it was obvious I was not going to get anywhere near them so I cruised on by. Now that alone is not strange, but what occurred next makes me think there are things of this world we know nothing about. A while later, I was on my way back up the beach and I noticed another two chics, now these two were not so hot.

In fact they were what is officially known (in my shallow circle of friends) as munters. I know, I know, I shouldn't have said it, but it's true, and you wouldn't want me to lie now would you. Well.. no matter how hard I tried to avoid them, some unknown force continually pulled me towards them. Believe me, I tried to get away, but the wind god was taking the 'you know what' and not only took me straight to them, but dumped me on my arse right at their feet. Obviously, one look at the sweaty grey leggings stretched bigger than my kite and I was off like a shot, but still I'm convinced there was some force steering me that day.

Anyway back to the kiting. I was just sitting here, on my board, waiting for some wind, in the muddy hole of a playing field near my house. The one at the bottom of the valley that never gets any wind. The one I swore I'd never come to again.. and I got a phone call from the missus. It's 38 degrees in magaluf and she's staying a couple more days. !!!!!!!

By : englisho