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Sun
versus Sex
September
1997
Dear Jill,
Everything
here is exactly as John described it! It is
unbearably hot and the Middle East does smell
very different to Manchester. I expect there
will be times that I’ll feel homesick but lets
face it, that could have happened if I moved
down to London. Let me tell you about our new
home, it is huge. We have a beautiful
four-bedroom villa, with marble floors and a
kitchen to die for, far more me than that pokey
two up two down in Salford.. Mind you, we also
have enough creepy crawlies to keep the British
Natural History Museum going for a few more
years. Our first evening here was supposed to be
special; a new job, new home and new life.
Having put Megan to bed after that nine hour
flight, I decided to go and freshen up in the
downstairs bathroom but as I opened the door and
turned the light on I nearly died. There,
running around the bathroom floor were FIVE
massive cockroaches. When I say massive I mean
MASSIVE, in fact as big as a cadburys cream egg
but flat.
I
don’t know who was more scared, myself, the
five cockroaches or John who thought I was being
murdered. Needless to say, there was not much
sleep for me on that first night. The next day,
having braced myself for the sight of more
cockroaches I was pleased to discover that they
were in fact hiding somewhere that I could not
find them. Not that I had any intention of
hunting them out, but they weren’t to know
this. John assured me that we were going
shopping and would be able to buy a can of Pif
Paf, which kills them. I smiled and nodded in
agreement but secretly knew that we would
certainly not be buying just one of those cans,
we would be buying at least half a dozen - or I
was leaving on the next available flight.
John
has a real advantage over us, having already
lived here for the three months whilst Megan and
I stayed with you; he is quite relaxed about the
country and all it provides. That said, when we
left the villa that morning, John insisted that
I get in the car and drive straight away, so
with a fear never before experienced I sat in
the driving seat of our hire car. Not for long.
My legs were on fire, I couldn’t breathe it
was so hot. I jumped out of the car, John was
doubled over, laughing and explaining that I had
seen first hand just why you need to start your
car a good ten minutes before you set off, so as
to give the air conditioning time to cool the
car down. Thanking him with one of my best dirty
looks, I started the engine, stomped back in the
house and four cigarettes later I tried again.
This time the car was bloody freezing, but at
least my hooped earrings hadn’t started to
melt my neck. It felt very strange to be sat in
the left hand side of the car, but secretly I
knew that John was right. I would have put this
moment off indefinitely.
Driving
off up our street, very slowly, I managed to
open the window instead of changing gear, but it
didn’t take too long to master the controls
and, luckily, we live on a quiet street so there
were no other drivers to complain about me doing
four kilometers per hour. As John directed me
out of the side streets we finally reached the
junction to the first main road. I didn’t want
to do it. I didn’t want to drive anywhere but
I knew that I had no choice, how difficult would
life be, living in a foreign country with
nothing to do but sit and watch Arabic TV just
because I didn’t dare drive? So, I indicated
right, after cleaning the windscreen might I
add, and set off down the road. I was just
beginning to feel quite smug when I noticed that
I was approaching a roundabout. I do think that
somebody should invent a driving seat with
concealed commode for just these occasions. What
the hell was I supposed to do here? I was sat in
the wrong side of the car, on the wrong side of
the road about to go the opposite way around a
roundabout. I decided to just go for it and
before long found myself parking outside a
supermarket.
Once inside I was suitably impressed. There was
more here than goats cheese and humous, in fact
if you wanted to pay the equivalent of £2.50
you could even buy a Muller yoghurt! First stop
was the pest control section and I wanted to buy
everything available. I had expected to be
relieved once I had the Pif Paf in my trolley
but after a few minutes I looked on the shelves
in front of me and asked John why there were so
many other products, he said it was for all the
other bugs we get over here. I begged him to
tell me and eventually he explained that we have
cockroaches, mosquitoes, scorpions, locusts,
giant wasps and camel spiders which apparently
anaesthetize your skin and eat it in the night.
For a brief moment I thought it was one of his
little jokes but deep down I knew it to be the
truth. I needed air fast, but I wasn’t likely
to get any outside so my instinct took me to the
freezer section. I had begun to panic, could I
cope with all these things? You know me Jill, I
don’t even like blue bottles in the house, I
had not even been in the country twenty four
hours at this point and already I had wanted to
come home three times. I stood looking around me
and for the first time realized just how many
ex-patriots there were in this supermarket,
surely they had not all been here less than a
day, perhaps you did get used to everything
eventually. I doubted I would ever be able to
cope with the cockroaches, but I could try and
maybe if I got to know some of these other ex
pat wives, life might be tolerable. I decided
there and then that I was not going to be beaten
so early on and with that, picked up the frozen
pack of buffalo meat I had been staring at for
the last five minutes and went off to find John
and Megan.
We didn’t spend too long in the supermarket as
I was eager to get back and kill the little
bastards, so I haven’t had a chance to see
everything on the shelves but I may be going
this afternoon after I have posted this letter
to you. As you know we do not have postmen over
here, everybody has their own PO Box and as you
already have the postal address I will be
checking regularly so get writing. I spoke to my
mum on the phone and she said that you didn’t
get that council job you went for. What are your
plans now, keep me posted. Looking forward to
hearing from you
Love
Beth
Ps Megan sends you a big kiss and John sort of
grunted
October 1997
Hi Beth
I
was well chuffed to get your letter. Sorry it
has taken me so long to reply but life has been
a bit hectic of late. Firstly let me say that I
think you are sooo brave. There is no way on
this earth that I would stay in a country with
cockroaches that big. Are you sure they are
really that size? I know that it is a bit dodgy
in certain parts of Manchester but lets face it
there is nothing like THAT over here, at least I
hope not.
Well
I cannot put it off forever so I am just going
to write it. I have a new job, admittedly its
not what I spent three years at university for
but it’s a laugh and it pays well. Are you
curious? Ok well I am a receptionist in a
parlour. Yes, I do mean massage parlour. Don’t
freak out because it’s not how you imagine. My
job is mainly to answer the phone and give
details of our whereabouts and of course details
of the girls. Sometimes we have only one girl on
but generally there are two. So I get into work
about 11.00am straighten the beds, rewind the
porno films, put the condoms and lubricants on
the bedside tables, make myself a brew and stick
the telly on. I have to confess that on my first
shift I really panicked. Even talking to blokes
on the phone was embarrassing, especially the
ones that ask you things like; “Do any of the
girls have long fingernails?” What kind of
bloody question is that? But you do get used to
it. I am at a newly opened place so its not too
busy, which gives me the chance to learn the
ropes at a steady pace. I have had to learn all
the lingo. Water Sports is where the girl pees
on the guy for which he pays an extra tenner in
the room. Hard sports is well, not pissing, if I
can put it that way - so he pays more in the
room. How disgusting is that, we do have a Hard
Sport punter, sorry client, and we just call him
Mr Pooey. O’ Levels means oral and A’Levels
means anal and that Beth is about the top and
bottom of it. Client arrives I introduce him to
the girls, take his money show him to the room,
give him a towel for his shower ask him which
lady (I use the word very loosely !) he would
like to see and shut the door and leave him in
the room. I then go out and say, “Coco -
he’s all yours,” and after a few minutes she
goes in to ‘service’ him and I have another
brew, light a fag and watch telly or read a
magazine. How difficult is that? At about 8.00pm
I walk out of there, morals intact with an extra
£50 in my purse. However, I have not told my
Mum, she just wouldn’t understand. She thinks
I work in a bar in the centre of Manchester. In
fact if the truth be known there is only you who
knows, so I trust you can keep it to yourself.
It just isn’t worth the hassle of having to
explain it to everyone. That said, I will be
writing to you with all the juicy gossip, there
is no way I can keep it all to myself!
Enough
about the job for now, what else has happened? I
am still trying to diet. I had a real nightmare
a couple of weeks ago while I was in the Arndale
Centre. One of the girls at work had told me
about some new herbal laxatives, she said that
they work really well and I thought that in the
job she does she must know, so I decided to buy
some. I thought if they’re herbal they must be
good for you, so I took two with my breakfast
and set off into Manchester. All was going well
until I went into BHS. I was in the changing
room and had just finished trying on a pair of
jeans when I had the most painful stomach ache.
With absolutely no warning I just shit
everywhere. All I had with me was the skirt I
had put on that morning and a small handbag with
nothing in it that would clean me up. All I
could think about was all those years my mum
spent telling me to ‘keep some tissue in your
handbag just in case’. Admittedly I don’t
think she ever had shitting yourself in mind,
but it would have been handy had I listened to
her. Anyway, I am in the worst situation of my
entire life. I am covered in shit (well rusty
water really) but shit all the same, so what am
I to do? For a brief nanosecond I did consider
shouting for one of the shop assistants but
thought better of it, after all I don’t think
I could ever deal with that kind of public
humiliation. So I took the only option left to
me. Fortunately having such a huge arse, the
jeans I had been trying on were enormous, so I
proceeded to clean myself up with them. I am
ashamed to say that I hung the trousers on the
rail at the entrance to the changing rooms and
ran. I know that I probably traumatized some
poor school leaver but there was no way I was
going to walk through BHS or Manchester come to
think of it, with shit running down my leg. The
moral of that story you would assume to be,
‘Don’t eat herbal laxatives’, but in fact
I have taken it to be, ‘Don’t believe any
bollocks that a prostitute tells you!
’. It came to me later that I could have
earned about £25 had there been a punter in the
cubicle with me but lets not go there!
I
will sign off now as duty calls and I want to
get this off in the post on my way to work.
Missing you loads
Catch ya later
Jill
Give Megan a big kiss and hug from me
December 1997
Hi Jill
OH
MY GOD!!! I cannot believe that you are working
as a receptionist in a massage parlour. Surely
there must be something else you can do other
than THAT. Obviously I haven’t said anything
to anyone, as if I would. It’s hardly anything
to brag about is it? I had to tell John as I
can’t be hiding my post all the time but I
really think that you should look for something
else immediately. Here endeth the lesson but
think on.
Megan
started school a couple of months ago and she
seems to be enjoying it. It is the same as a
British School apart from the fact that the
register is taken at 7.30am, there are no school
dinners and they are not allowed to teach any
form of religion other than Islam. Still, I
don’t see that as a problem you only need to
cast your mind back to our staunch Catholic
education , I mean, how evil were those nuns? As
I was saying, the school seems very nice, lots
of other ex pat children for Megan to befriend,
in fact she has been invited to tea this
afternoon straight from school so she must be
settling in well. I have met a couple of people
but no one to compare with ‘best friend of
twenty years Jill’ even if you do work in a
brothel while I mingle with the elite!
Yesterday
I had one of those, ‘I really wish I was back
home moments’. I had taken Megan to school and
waited with her in the playground until her
teacher came up the steps to collect her class.
I saw a couple looking over at me with what I
can only describe as disdain. I had a long hard
look at Mr and Mrs ‘Gucci’ dripping in gold
and impeccably dressed from head to toe and
suddenly felt very self-conscious. As I looked
at myself in the reflection of the office window
I saw what they saw. Unbrushed hair, baggy
t-shirt, leggings and slippers. Just as I was
beginning to feel really suicidal I heard this
awful whining sound and discovered, to my glee,
that it was coming from Little Lord Fauntleroy
who had one hand attached to his reluctant
teacher and the other hand ripping Mummy
‘Gucci’s’ skirt. I looked over at Megan
who was laughing with her new friend, waved and
grinned at the ‘Gucci’s’ as I skipped off
to my car. Every cloud and all that! I have
decided that I will dress !
to impress from now on, after all, you never
know who you might meet.
Everybody
I have spoken to lately is getting all geared up
for Ramadan. It would appear that it comes with
many pitfalls. I have been informed by all who
know me that I must be on my guard. I must not
be caught eating, drinking or smoking during
daylight hours. This confused me immensely, did
it mean I should not attempt to do any of these
things or that I could do them but just don’t
let anybody catch me? It has since been
clarified, in my own home or other non-muslim
homes I can eat, drink and smoke but only
indoors. Once the sun sets everybody is allowed
to eat, drink and smoke in public. How pleased I
was to discover I was being treated like a
muslim despite being a catholic! I must write to
Father Joseph as I am convinced that most
muslims at home don’t seem to know about this
little rule. Surely if this is the case in
Middle Eastern countries then all Muslims in
England should be made to give something up for
lent in return. Back to the matter in hand,
Ramadan. I have seen the ‘moon watching
station’ and although it is a striking piece
of architecture I can’t help but be amused at
the purpose it serves. Apparently at the end of
Ramadan a public holiday is called this is known
as Eid. Now, everybody knows that Ramadan lasts
a full 30 days but Eid can only be called when
the moon has been officially spotted. Hence the
‘moon watching station’ and as an extra
security they advertise in the local paper that
should anybody spot the moon on the 30th night
there is a number for them to ring. So hold your
horses, don’t count your chickens and never
plan an Eid holiday because there is always the
chance that the moon will stay home that
particular evening.
I
am not sure if I told you but our weekend is
Thursday/Friday over here. Strange, I know, but
if they have always done it that way, who am I
to stop them. Seriously though, I can’t
imagine ever getting used to it.
Last
weekend we were on our way to one of the
shopping centres and Megan spotted a pet shop,
you know what she’s like about animals, so
John turned the car round and we headed to where
Megan was pointing. I didn’t know what to do
for the best when I realized that it was in fact
a Live Chicken shop. Imagine if we had told her
the truth, how would she have felt. Its bad
enough that she wants to stop eating all things
that are baby; like eggs and lamb, what would
she think if she knew we could just go in there
and pick a chicken to be killed. Luckily, John
quickly explained that it was where the locals
let there chickens live because a shop was
cheaper than a farm. It worked for now but who
knows.
Since
leaving the UK I see it in a very different
light, I don’t think any of us realize just
how lucky we are and how much we take for
granted. I have on my roof over here, a 600
gallon water tank which costs me about thirty
five pounds a month for ten visits. John
actually went up on the roof and had a look in
our tank and he found it to be full of dead
cockroaches, living mosquitoes and general scum.
That explains all the marks on my washing and
there was me thinking it was that damn twin tub.
Can you believe that I have a bloody twin tub, I
didn’t even think they made them anymore, and
to top it all it doesn’t even come with a
mangle. Anyway, I digress, so I pay all that for
water, I would give anything to have nice, sort
of fresh mains water but it is not to be. On a
more positive note at least we can pay our
waterman in beer or whisky, imagine offering
that to North West Water. Also each visit to the
doctor’s costs twenty four pound plus any
extra investigative work and of course
medication. Mind you none of that seems to
matter on a Friday when I lie on the beach
slowly getting drunk whilst waiting for the
barbecue to warm up with about fifty other
ex-pats just having a laugh. So I suppose there
are advantages and disadvantages to being here
and at home. I wonder whereabouts in the world
they have everything. I must look into that.
Right, that’s it for now.
Write soon
Love Beth
Jan 1998
Hi Beth
Did
you have a good Christmas? I hope you all got
your cards and pressies. I didn’t know what to
get you so I decided on the vibrator. I hope you
didn’t get in any trouble it was only after I
posted it that I realized you might not be
allowed them over there. Did Megan and John like
their books? I hope so. I saw your Nan in the
town and she invited me round for tea. I felt
kind of sorry for her, what with you not being
around and all that, so I agreed to go but never
again. Can you believe that she gave me apple
pie, chips and gravy and when I tried to explain
that I couldn’t eat it she told me not to be
so ungrateful and that if there was a war on
I’d have ate it. So I said I was sorry and
then had to follow that with meat pie and
custard. I bet she’s been shopping in one of
those cheap freezer places where they have no
proper packaging just plastic bags, and now all
her pies have been mixed up.
Work
is as strange as ever, but I am getting used to
it. I now see men in a completely different
light than I ever did before. In fact they are
all wankers, I’m sorry Beth but they really
are. I thought that it would just be seedy old
men that came in but it isn’t, There are
business men young and old, single men, married
men, disabled men, young drop dead gorgeous men
but best of all there are men we know. Well one
actually but still its proper gossip. Do you
remember that lad at school called Jack Morris?
He was one of the square lads always did his
homework and shit like that, well anyway he came
in our place the other day. I don’t know who
was more embarrassed him for being in a brothel
or me for having gained such a wide arse anyway
he booked in with Lulu, (where do they get their
names from) who later told me that he’d paid
extra for anal. Now I can’t wait for a school
reunion especially as, by the time someone
organizes a reunion I will probably have booked
in loads more old school pals. What do you think
about that then? I had a guy phone work just
before Christmas saying that he wanted to pay
the forty pound booking in fee but didn’t want
a service. I said that I was sorry but we
couldn’t help him. ‘Blondie’ was jumping
up and down calling me a lunatic, until I
explained that he wanted locking in a cupboard
for half and hour. And if she thought I was
about to spend a half hour, listening to some
sad fucker begging for his mummy to let him out
because he was a ‘good boy now’, then she
was dafter than she looked. She still wasn’t
happy though, some people really will do
absolutely anything for money.
If
you had asked me two months ago what was my most
embarrassing story I would have to say the BHS/
Herbal Laxative story but not anymore, how about
this one. I met this absolute hunk of a guy who
had that really sexy look, you know the type;
jeans, boots and a really chunky knitted jumper.
I bumped into him in the supermarket, we got
chatting, one thing led to another and I ended
up at his place. It’s always the case, right
guy but wrong time of the month. As it was, we
had sex in the shower so that solved that little
problem and I finished off by having a nice long
shower while he fixed us something to eat.
Having had such a great evening, I couldn’t
believe my luck when I woke up in the morning to
find him cuddled up behind me. Imagine my horror
when, a few minutes later he got up to go to the
bathroom with my well worn sanitary towel stuck
to the back of his boxer shorts. I just wanted
to die and any faint hope of divine intervention
was shattered when I heard him groan.
He
had found it. Beth, I was mortified. I decided
that the best thing to do was pretend I didn’t
know anything about it but once I heard the
shower running I changed my mind, threw my
clothes on and did a runner. I then spent weeks
reliving the experience and actually caught
myself imagining how he might have been the ONE,
until he turned up at the parlour, a month
later, asking for watersports. I couldn’t
believe it, how disgusting is that and to think,
he could have pissed on me while we were in the
shower and I wouldn’t have had a clue.
I
am still trying to lose weight despite having
tried every diet known to man, none of which
have worked. I read in a magazine somewhere that
you can have a medical reason for eating so much
and they gave a phone number for Over Eaters
Anonymous. I wasn’t too sure but I thought it
could do no harm just to give them a quick ring.
I was absolutely gutted when I rang and the
answering machine said that all their operatives
were out at lunch and could I leave my name and
number so that they could get back to me. Are
they taking the piss?
On
that thought, I shall go and make some lunch,
take care and let me know when you are planning
on flying back to the UK.
Love
Jill
29th January 1997
Dear Beth
Under normal circumstances I would thank you for
the vibrator but not in a staunch muslim
country. I was very lucky that the parcel was
not opened. Had it been one of those discreet
plastic ones then fine but not the one you sent.
There is no way I could have passed off a 9 inch
rubber penis as anything but a 9 inch rubber
penis. I mean, it even had veins for god sake.
What were you thinking? Luckily we got away with
it but I would have been in serious trouble had
any of the postal workers seen it. Please be
careful in future as it could have had very
serious consequences. I don’t mean to sound
ungrateful but John was a bit pissed off as
well, 9 inch; you’ll be giving him a complex!
On a lighter note, John and Megan both liked
their pressies and Megan asked if you could send
her a copy of ‘Smash Hits’ as she can’t
get it over here and one of her friends has a
copy.
I
think I am getting used to living over here.
Ramadan has just finished and what an experience
that was. As I told you before, they cannot eat
drink or smoke during daylight hours, in fact,
they cannot enjoy any pleasures including SEX.
Bearing that in mind I felt I had to tell you
about a couple of letters I saw in the local
paper, they read
Dear Mohammed,
I awoke this morning to find that I had an
erection. I did not plan this but I had no
control of the situation. Have I broken the
rules of Ramadan? – Repentant, address
supplied
Dear Mohammed,
This morning whilst cleaning my teeth I
inadvertently swallowed some of the water I was
rinsing my mouth with. Does this mean I have
broken my fast.- Worried
So you see, there is fun to be had over here if
only you look for it. Take for example last
weekend. John has recently been given a four
wheel drive as his company car. It seemed a
shame not to take a trip ‘off road’ and so
we packed a picnic and set off with some
friends. On the highway I saw an open backed
truck, nothing unusual there, you would say. But
what if I was to tell you that in the back, tied
down with ropes was a camel wearing a headscarf.
A bloody headscarf for godsake. Then, as we are
winding our way up the side of a treacherous
mountain, out of nowhere jumps a young local lad
trying to sell us a rug. I know they have to
make a living somehow but John nearly had a
heart attack trying to avoid running him over.
Personally I would have driven over him but
that’s me.
Well
I have loads to tell you but unfortunately I
have to sign off. We have been invited to a
Murder Mystery Night this evening and I need to
get ready. So, bye for now I will fill you in on
all the gossip next time.
Love
Beth |
