50 Shades of Green

Fifty Shades is not my kind of film and I won't be going to see it.  I know the whole world is talking about it but I still won't be going to watch it.  Apart from a moral objection to something that glamorises inflicting control and pain on a loved one when we live in a country where an average of 2 women a week are killed by a partner or former partner, I just don't fancy sitting in a cinema full of giggling women and couples who might actually be touching each other in public. Also, it's not my idea of a fantasy.  I'm not keen on grey; sharp suits, shiny shoes and a man with his own helipad doesn't really do it for me.  I'm much more into green.

Sitting on my bench at the allotment, looking at the patch of 50 shades of green that I've half turned into a single shade of brown my eye catches a stray cable tie still attached to a bamboo cane and my mind starts to wander.  I fantasise about the Long Suffering Husband appearing from nowhere. He is silent (that's important) and he dirtily digs my veg patch.

"Eww.  NO. STOP," you are shouting, just as I was at the radio this morning when Neil and Susan from the Archers gave each other smouldering looks in the bedroom and were then named as. "most loved up couple," at the Bull's Valentine's dance. 

 We don't like to think about the middle-aged having sex.  Particularly middle aged women.  The only women in TV and film who have sex are young and toned with completely hairless bodies.  Old men are still at it but always with young women.  Wouldn't it be great if Bond was seduced by M?   No, of course it wouldn't, we're not used to it.  We would all shout at the cinema screen, "Bring back the child-like women with large breasts!"

There was a moment in my childhood, where the realisation that old people had sex became clear.  My Grandfather had just come out the other side of a weird phase where he tried to mow the carpet and abuse bank staff when he found himself a girlfriend.  At a family gathering I overheard my Aunt, saying to the woman who was also in her eighties (It's awful but I can't remember her name), "Why don't you just live together?" and the woman replied, "He's not getting into my knickers until he's put a ring on my finger!"  Have you ever seen a 15 year old turn 50 shades of green?