I Sweeten Your Tea With Scandal

My Dear Brooding Sir,

In the mornings you have a ritual of making tea. I was not a big tea drinker myself except for the occasional fruity and herbal teas steeped from a bag. We had plans for the day, and you wanted to go shower and get ready. Mindful of the time, I volunteered to make your tea.

You gave me the world’s quickest tea making tutorial then went off to do your daily ablutions. I remember looking at the tea leaves, the kettle, the mugs, and thought to myself, “Okay piece of cake.”  I set off to make my Sir his morning tea. I was happy.

When you came into kitchen looking and smelling damn fine, I had your cup of tea ready. You came over and hugged and kissed me. You smiled and thanked me for making your tea. I watched you take your first sip. Then you took another. You told me that I made really good tea, and that it tasted better than when you made it. We started cooking breakfast with you intermittently sipping your tea. I think you got suspicious after a time, because you asked me how I made the tea exactly. I showed you what I had done. You started laughing. I asked you what was so funny. You explained that I used 3 times as many tea leaves that you did, so no wonder it tasted so good. I became exasperated because you never said how much to use (I guessed), but you just kissed me again and told me it was fine.

I took the tea strainer and pot over to the sink to clean them. You told me that you just throw the wet, used tea leaves out in the garden. “You’ll see where,” you said. I took the pot out to the garden and looked around. I walked around looking for the obvious tea leaf graveyard. I started feeling foolish because I couldn’t see where you threw the damp leaves. After taking two turns around the garden, I decided that it didn’t matter where I threw the leaves. I took off the lid and hurled the wet mass. Evidently I throw like a girl, because that soggy mound went flying and hit the side of the garage. It stuck to it briefly before it slid down the wall to the ground leaving a slick trail. I was relieved that there weren’t any witnesses to see my disgraceful treatment of innocent tea leaves.

As I turned to go back into the house, I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. There was Maisy staring at me with her mouth open in disbelief. I’m sure she was trying to figure out what this dumb American was attempting to do by tossing tea leaves at the garage. I smiled and waved and hurried inside.

When I confessed to you what I had done and the nosy eyewitness, you laughed and laughed and laughed some more. You apologized for not showing me where to put those leaves. You were sitting on a chair by the table and continued to laugh. You said to me, “Come here.” I walked over to you and you put your arms around me and kissed the daylights out of me for who knows how long. Needless to say, I forgot about the tea, the leaves, the garage, the beast next door, and even what day it was.

Puckeringly yours,


Tea Scandal


My Infused Darling

You made a damn fine cup of tea. I know it was not your beverage of choice and being a tea heathen your only experience was with the bagged variety.

I remember quite fondly that moment when you told me the Maisy Beast had witnessed your assault with a deadly tea leaf on my garage wall. If it was one of your fruit or herbal teas I could actually describe it as a drive by fruiting. I still long to see the look on her face at the moment of impact. She would have been torn between racing to the phone to alert the media and standing firm to stare at you down in an attempt at humiliation.

Thank goodness she was of an age where new technology was slow to be adopted. She didn’t own a mobile phone and even a cordless phone would have been beyond her comprehension. How happy she would have been to be on said phone/s gossiping to her friends while witnessing your transgression. It would have been Maisy Beast Nirvana.

Back to the tea however. Being a man means more is always better, to put it quite simply “more is more.” More air in the tyres – better. More food on my plate – better. More wine in my glass – better. More tea in my pot – well of course it had to be better?

Come back to me my Darling. I’d love a cup of tea, and only you can make it how I like it.

Spooningly Yours

From Sir With Love

©2014 Darling and Sir


The Wallaby Whisperer

My Mesmerising Darling

Your encounters with our wildlife at the zoo were not just confined to our freaky spider webs. You saw some of our other native animals as well.

We went to the koala feeding and got there right at the very end. I remember the keeper being incredibly short with us and me having trouble controlling my caustic tongue. The koalas were a bit of a disappointment (as they often are). They were just sitting in the tree munching on their eucalyptus leaves, essentially just being a far prettier version of a three toed sloth.  

We saw the kangaroos. They weren’t looking in the least bit majestic. They were just laying around instead of being in full stride bounding across the open plains, and they were dozing under the shade of some far off trees. We went to the wombat enclosure, but as they are nocturnal creatures I think we saw a furry butt and that was about it.

You did have some luck with a wallaby though. Obviously the wallaby in question was pretty tame. He was just hoping around. Many of the sightseers were really excited to see him. They tried to pet him. They tried to feed him and then they tried to take photographs of him. He ignored them all. Who did he head to? Well you know the answer. He became your best friend. You picked up some fallen leaves and quite literally you had him eating out of the palm of your hand.

Taronga Zoo

So there you are in all your American glory wearing my baseball cap, tormenting the tourists, and feeding our wildlife.

The wallaby is not the only creature you have eating out of the palm of your hand. You know I do also.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love


My Dear Native Sir,

The best part of the zoo, my beloved, was spending the day with you. I just want that clear.

The koalas were cute, and they acted like they knew it as they looked at us from their lofty perch. Isn’t that the Australian way? (I’m smirking here.) I had forgotten how the zoo employee wasn’t very pleasant. That understandably doesn’t sit well with you.

I remember many tourists and zoo goers couldn’t get the wallabies to come near them for a picture. We watched the confusion for a few moments, and then I reached down and logically grabbed some of the same leaves that the wallabies were eating. The others weren’t using the correct leaves. I thought it was funny.

One brave wallaby decided he liked what I was presenting him as a peace offering. Just behind me and out of the picture were many camera wielding people snapping photographs to their heart’s content.

When the wallaby and I were done making each other’s acquaintances, I glanced up at you. You were standing there smiling at me. You had such a look of serenity on your features; that look is ingrained in my memory.

Calmly yours,


©2014 Darling and Sir


My Dear Contagious Sir,

I know you’re feeling poorly right now. I think stress pounded your immune system and it finally succumbed. You’re putting on a brave face by giving interviews, managing staff, and cleaning up executive muck. You’re a force to be reckoned with.

I’ve been worried about you. I feel like a mother hen asking you if you’ve slept well, have taken medicine, eaten, and other questions about your health. I will always be concerned for you.

That being said, I told you the other day that I would still kiss you even with a communicable malady. You responded, “You wouldn’t have any choice.” I laughed, because I realized there wasn’t anything wrong with your silver tongue. It assured me that you’re on the mend.

Anxiously yours,



Darling You’d Make A Great Nurse.

You worry too much. I have man flu. Mere mortals call them common colds, but because I am a man it is far worse (smiles).

Yes I have been a little off, not sleeping enough, probably drinking a bit more than I have for quite some time, eating out too much because I don’t have time to cook healthy meals, not getting much exercise and working excessive hours. Plus I am no longer 25 and ten feet tall and bullet proof. I am somewhat older now and only eight feet tall and bullet resistant.

It will pass and I will repair. As for kissing you? While I ache to do so, I would not wish to infect you. I am all talk my Darling. I would hate to make you sick.

Infectiously Yours

From Sir With Love

Hey, Guess What

Play Symbol - SmallMy Clever Sir, (To listen to Darling read her letter, click on the greeting.)

The other day we were talking on the phone, and I said, “Hey, guess what?”

You immediately responded, “I love you too.” We both went quiet and then you chuckled, because you knew you got me. You instinctively knew what I was going to say and preempted me.

How cool is that, my dear Sir? Pretty damn cool indeed.

Drats, I was foiled again.

Always yours,



Play Symbol - SmallMy Quick Witted Darling, (To listen to Sir read his letter, click on the greeting.)

It is a rare day indeed when I can say I have foiled you. You keep me very much on my toes. In fact I am there so often that I was thinking of investing in some pointe shoes (there’s a picture none of us need.)

I love telling you that I love you.

                    My Darling I love you.

I sometimes feel that I don’t tell you enough. I know we tell each other all the time but I need to take the opportunity to get in first when it presents itself.

Let me say it again. My Darling I love you.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

©2014 Darling and Sir

The Wedding

My Darling

This will be a difficult letter to write and no doubt to read. I am going to tell you about my wedding. I have only been married once, and you and I both know I married the wrong woman.

I married the woman whom I abandoned you for. I knew before the day that I was making a mistake. For someone who is used to making decisions, decisive decisions, bold decisions, important decisions, I was like a rabbit in the headlights. I was inert. I was catatonic. I was frozen in fear.

It was April 2002, a little over three years since you had left these shores. The day was perfect. The morning was brisk and clear, as the hours passed the late morning witching hour arrived. The were no clouds in the sky. A faint breeze troubled the autumn leaves, and the guests milled in as I awaited my fate.

I worked the room like I was running for office, chatting to a family member here, laughing with an old friend there. Outwardly I was calm, confident, and very much in control. My wife to be? Well, as was her bent, she was late. I was not surprised; it fairly summed her up. I received a message that she was here and ready to proceed but, her sister was now detained. She was detained despite the fact that I had hired her family a cottage on the grounds of where we were to have our reception, no more than five kilometres from the site of the nuptials.

I had spoken to the guests, made light with the minister, joked with the bridal party and then a moment of silence descended upon me. There I was standing alone in the church, yet surrounded by people minutes away from signing the contract of marriage. I looked down the aisle and up at the stained glass window atop the eastern side the building, and in my moment of self reflection I thought of you. I knew it was you who should soon be by my side. I knew it was you who should be sharing my vows. Alas the moment was lost, my cowardice returned and it was on with the show.

We both know I went on to marry that woman. She proved my undoing in more ways than one. But as much as I would love to blame her, I cannot for it was at my own feet that the blame was to lay. I was the one who had forsaken you for her. I was the one who could not wait, and who did not communicate. It was and still is my cross to bear.

My life slowly unraveled from that point on. It was the moment that all hope was lost. The moment I lost my moral and ethical compass.  It was meant to be the happiest day of my life. It was the moment when I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had truly lost you.

Regrettably Yours

From Sir With Love


Dear Sir,

I am really struggling how to respond to this letter. I have so many mixed emotions running through my head right now. I know one of the things I wondered about all those years was whether or not you had married. I also questioned if you had children, how your parents were, and if you were happy. We mentioned and discussed these in earlier letters.

I am truly at a loss when it comes to your wedding day. It hurts like hell to know the place where you were married. It makes me realize that I was undoubtedly out of your life. I know you say I was not forgotten, but it doesn’t feel that way. There is no way I could have married in a place that meant so much to both of us – a place that reminded me strongly of you. I would have honored and treasured your memory, our memory.

That cottage you rented for your in-laws to stay in was our quaint cottage. I wonder which of your endearing in-laws slept in the bed we broke. (Of course the bed could have been a different one, or in the very least repaired.) How charming to think they slept in the bed where we made love, in the room where we made love, and bathed in the bathroom we shared. I don’t know what to say or think about all of this.

You were in total control of that day. You were in charge of your decisions. You made your choice. You could have walked away. You could have decided that you didn’t want to be with her. You could have found someone else – any one – with whom you could have been happy. As you stated on another blog of yours you dated many smart and beautiful women, were successful, and you married the woman you loved. Your actions tell me that I was a mere speck on your memory wall, and I have a hard time believing otherwise.

I expect the only thing left for me to say here is I am sorry. I am genuinely sorry that you did not find happiness in your decisions. I wanted you to be happy. I wanted you to have joy. I am just so dreadfully sorry.

Forsakenly yours,


©2014 Darling and Sir

The Prick of the Voodoo

My Virtual Darling

When we first met in the public chatroom there were a number of other regulars in the room as well. There was “School Marm” from Michigan, “JJ Anyway” from Florida, “Huggsy Bear” from who knows where and of course there was “Track Mamma” from Texas.

We were quite the little community and as we got to know one another many of us met in real life. It was a lot easier for you guys who were at least on the same continent and in the same country, but even those who couldn’t meet still found ways to connect. We exchanged gifts, spoke on the phone and populated one another’s lives in various ways.

It will seem a little narcissistic to say but Track Mamma had quite a little crush on me. She would be flirtatious and send me private messages. Her gifts were of a personal nature and I must be honest here, she absolutely loathed you. It was not because you had offended her, it was because she knew that you and I had a special relationship and she was insanely jealous.

She sent me a plethora of gifts: Homemade shortbread, ornaments and trinkets from her home along with other knick knacks and curios. There is however the one thing she sent me that I still laugh out loud about to this day. She sent me an Apple Pie.

Let’s not forget, she lived in Texas, I lived in Sydney, Sydney Australia which is almost 14,000 kilometres away. How did she ship that pie you may ask? Well it was not refrigerated in any way. Track Mamma told me it would be just fine and that it would not require any special attention. “I put it in the freezer for two days” was her reply to my incredulity regarding her shipping and handling plans. I did not bang on about it. She had hand made me a pie and had shipped it to me in Australia. I would not hurt her feelings by telling her there was no chance that it would arrive in a fit state to consume.

I remember its delivery quite vividly. I happened to be standing by my letterbox when it arrived. It was covered in customs and quarantine information. There were stickers all over it stating what they had done to the package to make it fit for distribution in Australia. It had clearly been opened and resealed (quite badly I might add) to check its content.

So a good two weeks or more after it left the continental United States my apple pie from Track Mamma arrived. It had been quarantined, irradiated, inspected, ripped opened and resealed. There was a puddle of pastry and apple at the bottom of a clip lock plastic bag. There was nothing I could do except place it in the rubbish.

So thank you Track Mamma. I feel a little cruel laughing at your misfortune and I would have no doubt enjoyed consuming your apple pie. If it’s any consolation I think of you still if perhaps not in the most flattering manner.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love


My Dear Magnetic Sir,

Ahh yes, the chatroom we met in holds so many weird and scary memories. I haven’t thought of those chatters in years. I suppose I consider myself fortunate that I was able to remove myself from the chatroom scene relatively unscathed in a modest amount of time. I heard later that chatrooms became horrid places akin to cess pools. I shan’t complain too much though, because it’s where I met you dear Sir.

In all honesty, no one cared where Huggsy Bear was from. She was a little punch drunk when she typed her infamous line of “I have a scottle of botch.”  School Marm was decent, but JJ was a pervert. Funguy was, well a fun guy. I met him and Jay and Stephanie in real life down in Georgia. I still keep in touch with Stephanie.

To say that Track Mamma loathed me is putting it mildly. She didn’t speak to me for quite some time, and when she finally did it was only the briefest of greetings done begrudgingly because of you. I remember informing you of this, and I don’t think you quite believed me at first. I came into the room under an assumed name while Miss TM was happily chatting away with you like a magpie. When I left and entered with my regular name, she clammed up tighter than a drum. Case in point, I think she was dismayed that her chicken bones dance and Voodoo Darling Doll wasn’t working. She didn’t want to incur the wrath of Sir by being unkind to me, so she would grunt or nod my way in a gesture of social competence.  And let’s face it my love, Track Mamma hadn’t ran a track since grade school. I have blotted out the one and only picture of her from my memory in self preservation.

Sir, you know as well as I do that there were many female hearts a fluttering in that chatroom when you appeared on the scene. I heard the grinding of numerous fingernails of women who wouldn’t have thought twice of scratching my eyes out and skewering me in hopes of removing me from the picture in order to catch your golden eye. I am touched that the eye of Sauron  Sir gazed so fondly my way. Your charisma and charm was huge and they all knew it.

As for the apple pie debacle sweetheart, nothing says love like botulism.

Infectiously yours,


©2014 Darling and Sir

Web of Fear

My Arachnophobic Darling

We have discussed some of your encounters with the local wildlife here in the land of Oz. Sadly you didn’t have much luck when it came to seeing our native fauna in their natural habitat. The initial plan was to take you to a wildlife park where you could see our animals in a more realistic setting. Time was our enemy so we settled on the zoo. It was by no means a poor second choice. Sydney’s Taronga Zoo is an amazing place. It is nestled in a truly spectacular setting. There is something quite surreal in seeing a giraffe in the flesh with the Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge as the backdrop.

So we went to the zoo. We saw the cute koalas and the sea lions, the elephants, the tigers, the wombats; all the cool stuff. We did manage to see some of our wildlife in their natural habitat even at the zoo though. We have plenty of them, and they live almost anywhere. I am speaking no less than of our local spiders.


Now I don’t claim to know what type of spider it was. My memory and my entomological ability are just not good enough. Suffice it to say that spiders are nearly in every tree here. Many of them spin very cool webs. I just looked it up online and the last known death as a result of a spider bite in this country was in 1976. That doesn’t mean however that they don’t strike fear into the hearts of many of the visitors to these shores. If you leave them alone, they normally leave you alone. If you disturb their home they tend to get a little more agitated, no doubt you’d do the same.

What can I say? I pointed out an awesome looking spider’s web in the trees above us, and you spent the rest of the time at the zoo looking up. You surgically attached yourself to my side (I was not complaining), and if I’d known it would have such an effect then I would have shown them to you much earlier.

The wildlife was out to get you my Darling and I would be your saviour. Now there’s a job I could really sink my teeth into. It was you who spun the web my Darling and I the willing victim.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love


My Valiant Sir,

I was so excited to go to Taronga Zoo with you. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning. Didn’t we ride ferry to the zoo?

I loved seeing the animals, and especially the wallaby (more on that later). I was disappointed in the kangaroos though. They were just lying around and not doing anything. I would have loved to have seen them in the wild. I enjoyed the koalas and I believe we even saw an echidna and Tasmania Devil.

I had read about the Australian Funnel Spider, and I had completely psyched myself out over them. I was on the lookout for them whenever we got into any lush places. I felt safe at the zoo until you nonchalantly pointed out all the webs in the trees. They weren’t little webs, my dear. They were massive webs that covered the whole tops of the trees, and I was picturing the giant spiders that created them. I was expecting one to plunge down out of the sky onto my head. I wondered if spider poop would drop out of the trees onto unsuspecting victims as well.

You kept telling me that I was going to get a sore neck if I didn’t look down once in a while. I just wanted to be prepared to whack a spider, and yes you did not complain that I super glued myself to your side yet again. We didn’t need a web to be attached to one another; it just felt right.

Frantically yours,


©2014 Darling and Sir