My What A Lovely Blue Tongue

My Wild Darling

You may remember my Darling. We went on a little walk through the hills when we visited the Jenolan Caves. The air was brisk and even though you had been a little ill you soon had quite the jaunty step going on.

You rushed ahead in a teasing and playful manner, then something truly hysterical happened. You came upon some native fauna. It was not a fearsome Red Kangaroo, they can stand over six feet tall when the need arises.

Nor was it one of the multitude of venomous snakes like the Red Bellied Black Snake that are abundant throughout our land and can kill you with one bite.

It wasn’t even a goanna which is basically a giant lizard that would run away rather than stand and fight.

It was a Blue Tongue Lizard. They grow to a maximum of 24 inches, this one would have been lucky to be 15. Their primary defence mechanism is to stick out their blue tongue to frighten away predators, something you should relate to. If you catch one by the tail they will often shed it and regrow a new one allowing them to escape.

You ran back to me like greased lightning, petrified by the beast that confronted you. I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself. I had one as a pet when I was a child. Of all the lethal Australian wildlife you could encounter this one doesn’t even come close. There are hundreds of lethal snakes and spiders and insects that can hospitalise you. Sharks and crocodiles that would quite literally eat you. There are even reports of giant gropers eating men. The ferocious beast that turned you to water? It was the mighty Blue Tongued Lizard.

My beautiful, gorgeous, precious Darling. Sadly you went swimming in the territorial waters of the most dangerous creature in Australia, me. I will protect you from all the dangerous wildlife in my country. Most especially I will protect you from me.

I love you.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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My Dear Mirthful Sir,

While we were on our nature hike, I was searching for a kookaburra in the trees. There was a specific bird that we saw, but I don’t recall the name of it. You also said I might spot a kangaroo. I heard a scuttling sound to my left, and some creature from the black lagoon type dragon stuck out its cobalt tongue and hissed at me. My first thought was with a tongue that color it had to be poisonous. Yes I high-tailed it back to you pronto. I ran like Hades himself was after me. I figured you’d sacrifice yourself so one of us would survive.

I couldn’t figure out why you were hysterically laughing with death at our door. I was partially correct; I thought you’d laugh yourself to an early demise. It took you quite a few panicked moments (the panic was on my part) to explain that we would live to see another day.

Suffice it to say that I didn’t venture out ahead of you on my own any more. You held tightly to my hand after that death defying incident. While I know you liked to think of yourself as my brave protector, the constant spurts of amusement were a dead (pun intended) give-a-way that something was amiss. I was too freaked to worry about being the cause of such fits of laughter. I was happy to oblige your funny bone if it meant that you’d hold onto my hand from that point on.

It saddens me to think that you feel I need protection from you. And while I was joking above, I do know that you would sacrifice yourself for me. That’s what unconditional love is all about. I know you would never hurt me now. That will do.

I love you too sweetheart. I always will.

Tamely yours,

Darling

©2014  Darling and Sir

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The Last Day

 To My Dearest Darling  Click The Greeting To Hear Sir Read His Letter

It was March 1999. It was your last night in Australia. It was the last night I looked lovingly into your eyes. It was both awful and intense. I was despondent.

We had returned to Sydney after our dalliances in the Blue Mountains, at Jenolan Caves and in the Hunter Valley. We had one last day together, one last night. We thought we would see one another again and yet still it hurt. The pain, it was like no other. It was a pain that has no name. You were soon to leave these shores. I was desolate.

You reminded me recently how we stood in my laundry as we washed and dried your clothes. I had forgotten, but the memories came flooding back. I would have tried to keep busy, tried to deny that awful reality. I would have also wanted your life to be easy; so we washed, we dried, we folded, and we packed. We readied ourselves to send you on your way. I was disconsolate.

I had booked us tickets to the theatre. We went and saw quite a famous Australian performer at the beautiful State Theatre in Sydney. Barry Humphries and his characters Dame Edna Everage, Sir Les Patterson and Sandy Stone featured in a quite wonderful show called “Remember You’re Out.” You sat beside me struggling with the accent. I wanted the distraction. The show? It was hysterical. My laughter? It was shrill. I was dejected.

I don’t remember where we ate that night. I remember the ride home in the taxi. I remember driving past the incomplete Sydney Olympic Stadium. I just held your hand with a quiet intensity. I was wretched.

We went to bed. We made love. It was fervid and frantic. We could sense the inevitable. Tomorrow’s dawn, it was the Sword of Damocles above our heads. I just lay there and held you. We barely spoke a word. I was bereft.

The sun’s early light would broker no argument. The day was here. It was ours to face. I hated it. We had to return our hire car. I loaded your luggage. We would off load it again as we caught a cab to Kingsford Smith upon returning the vehicle. I remember the taxi driver. He was everything you would want, happy, cheerful, chatty and ready to please. He saw the look on my face in his rear view mirror. He went silent. I was mournful.

We arrived at the airport. I don’t remember checking in, I don’t remember what we did. I just remember one thing, holding you in my arms for one last time. My left hand was tightly round your waist. My right, it cradled your neck and head. I drank in your aroma one last time, our lips locked one last time, and we held each other’s hands one last time. Then it was time to go. We separated. You went forward. Then with tears in your eyes and one last long look back, you were gone. I was inconsolable.

At that point I just lost it. Until then I had held it together (well almost). There was nothing for it now though, the tears where streaming down my overwrought cheeks. What was I to do? You were gone. I grabbed a bottle of water and sat at some dodgy outside table and awaited your plane’s departure. I saw the wheels leave the tarmac, watched them slide under the fuselage and with the four angry engines of the Qantas 747 screaming, awash with ugly power, the plane ascended, banked and you were gone. I was numb.

The centre of my world had left me. In pain, I set off home. I didn’t jump a bus or hail a cab. I walked, well at least I started to. It was about 30 kilometres from the airport to my home. I think I walked about a third of the way before my shoe leather began to bite, and I abandoned my ridiculous undertaking. When I returned to my home, well it had never felt so empty. I began to tidy things up and found your pyjamas, a story I have already relayed.

My Darling I have never experienced such love, such loss and such anguish all wrapped together like a pain ridden bundle of hurt. I knew then at least that we would be together again. That was how I consoled myself. I most assuredly messed that up as you well know.

Darling I must say it again. Thank you for searching for me, finding me and reaching out to me. You are my everything.

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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 Oh My Sir,  Click The Greeting To Hear Darling Read Her Letter

That day is hard to talk about. It hurts reading your words and seeing it through your eyes. I can still feel the pain even now from that day; it’s sharp and real. How crazy is that?

Our last night together was so beautiful as well as excruciating. The theater was stunning, and you were so handsome. While I enjoyed Barry Humphries, I was more aware of the good-looking man next to me. Many of Barry’s jokes went over my head and I did struggle with understanding him, but to be fair I was very distracted as well. The time bomb was ticking, and I was really conscious of it.

I remember making love with you after we returned to your house; I cried nearly the whole time. I wasn’t sobbing, but the tears silently rolled down my face. You tenderly kissed them off my cheeks and held me. We weren’t rushed that night. Our love making was unhurried, deliberate, and poignant. You gave me your body and your heart and soul, and I gave you mine in return. I cherished every bit of you.

I remember I had a huge lump in my throat that made it hard to breathe. I was scared to sleep because the morning was coming; it was inevitable. I had a hard time getting up the next morning because of the sorrow that hung in the air. I had to go home. I was leaving you.

I recall crying in the cab as you firmly held onto my hand. I don’t remember the cab driver though. I was too dejected to notice I suppose. You notice everything. I love that about you.

I remember our last hug. I can feel your strong arms around me even now. You held me so tightly. I bawled. My legs felt like lead as I forced myself to walk away and pass through the security gates. I remember thinking that I shouldn’t look back, but I had to. I needed to see you. My last vision of you was blurry, because my tears got in the way.

When I felt the plane lift off from the runway, the hole in my heart got bigger. I left a giant piece of it with you. You still have that piece; it was yours to keep. The flight attendant kept asking me if there was anything she could do for me as my swollen, tear-streaked face was obvious. I could only shake my head no. I remember I was still crying when we flew over Hawaii. I would cry myself to sleep, wake up, and then I would start to cry again. I was one dehydrated, hot mess.

I called you from Los Angeles. You were relieved I had made it back to the United States safely. We talked about me going ahead with the plans we had made while we were together. You told me about finding my purple pajamas in your spare bed. I told you to keep them safe for me until I returned.

If I had only known…..

Sadly yours,

Darling

©2014 Darling and Sir

Wake Up Call

My Dear Somnolent Darling

We seem to be talking quite a bit about sleep lately (or lack thereof.) We spent a night (or two?) staying in Caves House at the beautiful Jenolan Caves. Apart from the absolute awe and wonder of the natural beauty to be found, two other events stick in my mind. Firstly there was the inadequacy of the room we were offered and secondly there was that wake up call.

You had been doing all the driving, as we have previously discussed. The road down to the caves is both narrow and bendy. By the time we arrived you were feeling a little nauseous and car sick. You bravely soldiered on but you needed to nap. We checked in, then went to our room. There were no curtains or blinds. You were not impressed and rightly so.

Caves House, as the hotel we stayed in is known, has been through its ups and it’s downs. Sadly when we visited it was on the way down again. I was quite looking forward to showing you the stunning Waterford crystal chandelier that graced their reception area. In a moment of culture vandalism they had obviously recognised it’s value and replaced with a brass and glass number that would be more fitting in a tasteless Hollywood mansion owned by Tori Spelling. Having said all that it really would be a hard hotel to run. It is a good hours drive from the nearest town of any size along a pretty hair raising road. There is no other reason to come and stay except to visit the caves and the staff would need to live on site. I am not making excuses just pointing out the logistical nightmare of running such a remote venue.

I presented myself at the concierge desk (there being no phones in the rooms and no mobile reception at the site) and was grudgingly assigned another room. I also booked a wake up call, or what passed for one at the venue, for 6.00am. This is when everything was forgiven.

The next morning at about the appointed time there was a firm knock at the door and a staff member calling our names. “Mr and Mrs Sir, Mr and Mrs Sir, this is Mandy from reception. This is your wake up call, can you confirm for me that you’re awake?” Well my heart was singing. It was clearly obvious to all that Darling and Sir were husband and wife. We spent the rest of your trip my Darling as just that.

Yours In Matrimonial Bliss

From Sir With Love

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My Dear Adventurous Sir,

I remember Jenolan and the Caves House very well. I was looking forward to arriving, getting to our room, and just snuggling up next to you on the bed and resting. As I looked at the picture you posted, I recognize the windows to the right edged in green. One of those windows was our first room.

I remember walking into that beautiful room and exclaiming over the missing curtains and blinds. I was feeling so poorly at this point, that you insisted that I lie down while you went to the front desk to sort things. I vaguely recall you waking me up to change rooms. You had to literally help me up and walk. I feel bad I was such a burden that first night. After I rested for a short time, we did wander down to see the caves. You watched me closely and kept saying how pale I looked. Luckily it passed.

I was disappointed that they had removed the chandelier you had told me about. The place was beautiful still, and had such a quaint aura about it. It was here, at the Caves House where I heard my first kookaburra. That made me happy. Thank you so much for taking me to this serene place. There is still another tender memory that I recall there, but I shall write about it at a later time.

I remember that wake up call. I can still feel my face freezing in surprise when we were addressed by Mr. and Mrs. Sir. I whispered to you, “Did they really just say that?”  You were grinning so hard, I’m surprised you could answer. You were absolutely thrilled. I was too once I got over the shock.

Espousing-ly yours,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir

Driving

My Dearest Darling

When you came to these fair shores there was one thing I couldn’t do for you. Strange as it may seem but I had never learnt to drive a car. Technically that is not 100% accurate, but for the purposes of the story I no longer had a license (and no I had not lost it through any poor behaviour on my part, including drink driving).  My lack of a license brought with it a number of issues: I didn’t own a car, you were used to driving on the opposite side of the road, and we struggled to find a car hire company that would accept my credit card with your license.

I however was insistent that you see the sites so we found a little company, in Westmead, I think, that would let us hire a vehicle. Well there were a number of things that I remember.

Firstly there was your clear impatience and trouble with stop signs. While driving from Jenolan Caves to the Hunter Valley, we were on some back street in Sydney, trying to avoid the traffic, and approached a stop sign. You asked me if it was ok to go if there was no traffic. I replied “no” and explained that you still had to stop. Clearly deciding I was an unlicensed ignoramus you ignored my advice and made the left turn anyway, much to my amused amazement.

Not long after you expressed your incomprehension at what we call a “silent cop.”  Now this is a bright yellow plinth that had about a 3 inch or 90 mm profile that is used as a guide by motorists so as to not cut corners. Having never encountered one before, you were clearly baffled and quick to ridicule. They are quite an old fashioned traffic management device in this day and age. However on hearing you recall this story I laughed out loud when I encountered one in the back streets of Newcastle today.

The most sphincter tightening moment for me was however when we were leaving Katoomba. Then, on the Great Western Highway, you decided that the right hand side would be far more appealing than the more traditional left hand side. I decided that I may need a change of underwear.

In fact you did a stellar job of driving me around my fair city and its surroundings. I remember it with great warmth. But my fondest memory of driving with you concerns none of those things. It was placing my right hand on your leg as you drove. I could feel the electricity. I feel it to this day. I would give much money and many personal body parts to be able to look up into your eyes, smile and place my hand gently, but firmly on your left leg again, and then just leave it there for the duration.

 

You Will Always Be My Darling

From Sir With Love

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Dear Sir,

I fear I may not be able to reply to this letter appropriately as I am gigging so intensely after reading it. Oh, the memories are many.

I was perplexed that you didn’t drive at the time, but the public mode of transportation system of Sydney cleared up that confusion pretty quickly. My recent trip to Tokyo, Japan reiterated the brilliance of having such a system.  I do remember wondering at the wisdom in throwing a “goddamn Yank” behind the wheel of an Australian car, but your faith in me was unwavering.

A gentleman would not have pointed out my faux pas while driving backwards in your country, but it was good to hear you laugh. You did, however, leave out a few minor details that will clear up any obvious confusion.

I did stop at stop signs. I didn’t blow through them, Sir, and I scoff at the notion. The incident in question was a stop light. In my country, one can turn right on a red light (after coming to a full stop) if there is no traffic coming. I asked if that were true in turning left (remember backwards design here). You stated “no” that I had to wait for a green light.  There was absolutely NO traffic in the vicinity, and I was certain you were wrong. No harm no foul, so I proceeded to turn. I was an ignorant fool, and I apologize. I can still hear your laughter ringing through the car after you screeched like a girl. I have no doubt that I stuck my tongue out at you then (and now).

Those ‘silent cop’ thing-a-ma-jigs still baffle me. They appeal to my rational mind like some kind of driving video game. The more I hit, the more points I can rack up. Of course I never hit one, but I felt their magnetic pull. The temptation was fierce, but I managed to be victorious over their evil power after you told me that if I hit one, we’d blow out a tire. Fabulous!

Now that highway event makes me cringe to this day. To your credit you remained composed as my habitual driving took over and I headed to the right side of the road.  I was oblivious to the fact that it was a six lane highway. You just calmly reached over and guided me back to the WRONG side of the road and only released your breath once we were well on our way. I daresay I noticed finger grip marks on your side of the car, and I wondered where they came from. And might I add that I care about all your body parts including your sphincter, my love. Being in love addled my brain enough at the time without having to flip my way of thinking to operate a motorized vehicle in a foreign country; we were crazy. I’m certain we wouldn’t change a thing. Talking about it now brings tears of mirth, but only because we are safely ensconced in our own homes instead of looking death in the face by having me drive on the wrong side of the car on the wrong side of the road.

Your favorite memory of driving is also my favorite memory. Your hand represented so much to me – strength, support, warmth, and love. If your hand were to find its way to my leg again Sir, we wouldn’t be driving – electric indeed.

Longingly,

Darling

©2013 Darling and Sir