Friday, 16 September 2011

French Letters

Ooh - I've had a right good old write today....up to my eyes in steamy passion, requited lust, shoulders broader than Cheryl Cole's accent and moistened lips poking out of all manner of ripped clothing. I've just had to take a cold shower to get myself in blog mode. Well - all this thrust and bust set me thinking about the true great lovers of all time, literature and my life long quest for culture of the highest forms. So, let’s start with my dear old mum and dad. Actually they hated each other - but at least you have to have passion for their level of hatred. I'll never forget the day when my father decided to tell me the facts of love. "You know Emma - your mother is a wonderful woman and one day she's gonna meet someone who will appreciate it. When I first met her I could have eaten her. Ever since then I've been wishing that I had..." It was at that moment that I was born as a romantic novelist and poet. 

One day not long after I had met Gilles I was cycling near the Hampshire town of New Alresford where there is a fabulous old fashioned bookshop - all kinda creaky and smelling of old dusty books. I think also there is a hint of lavender, cat and old ladies wotsits. They have a foreign section where I have bought all manner of French Lit. (I mean - you don't have to read it do you!) On this particular day I found "Lettres de Napoléon  à Joséphine." Now, Napoléon was some kinda Romantic Hero. After great battles he would pen her a few lines as thousands of dead and wounded were cleared away ready for the recorded highlights after the late news. Excited by my purchase I got myself to London and presented the book to Gilles and asked him to read it to me in bed. You know - for a French guy his accent's not too bad. The early letters burn with passion and lust: “A thousand kisses await my love - but do not give any to me - they burn my blood." Probably his most famous letter ordered her not to wash because he was on his way home. Look - these are guys who eat boudin, andouillette, oysters and a cheese called "Epoisses" which is so smelly that it is banned on French public transport. (Sadly all of the mentioned products are delicious). Seemingly Napoléon liked her Au Nature. Well - I don't mind a bit of male musk myself (Ooh - I really think that an Emperor could have tweaked my knobs). So I lay there as my lover read the letters of Napoléon to Joséphine. "Ah - he had it bad you know”. After a while he skipped to the end of the book. I asked him to tell me how he ended the last letter. I quote: "They tell me you've got fat like a Normandy farmer’s wife". Well, at least she might have had a bit of tasty cheese in her knickers for him! Bloody Emperors - it's all self self self.

I hear Cheryl Cole is out in Afghanistan with the troops. Apparently she had to go on "Hostile Environment Training". Now, how can anyone who has worked with Simon Cowell on X Factor need that? Give me the Taliban any day. At least they don't pull their trousers up so high.

Emma thinks: Credit rating downgraded? Passion is never over- spent.

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