The Special Cupboard

But, obviously… not that one.

It is best putting that one back in the special cupboard until at least your inner thigh stops throbbing so much and there is something slightly less engaging for her to watch on the TV. After all, it is the sort of thing that needs each participant’s full attention if you are to avoid yet another trip to the casualty department, and having to invent yet another implausible scenario. This time preferably one that does not leave the tortoise as traumatised as the previous episode. As its name suggests, the special cupboard, or at least its contents, should be kept for special occasions, including both the Queen’s birthdays… and bonfire night, obviously.

For there is that situation where through overuse the specialness of the special cupboard’s contents become over familiar and mundane. Thus endangering the piquancy of that very specialness, which does so much to enhance both your lives at this time of advancing years and general ennui.

There was a time – well, several times actually, back in the first flush of youth, as it were – when neither of you needed anything resembling the contents of the special cupboard to get you in the mood. Nor to enhance the mood, or need any of the other aids and assistances those things offer and enable for those no longer in that first flush, or even seventeenth flush, of youth, if the truth be known.

There you have it though, those things that were so exciting, new, unusual or downright… well, we won’t go into that, after all neither of you can look at an ice cream van in the same way anymore, even after all these years. As for what she did with the flake from her 99, neither of you are sure if such a thing is legal in this more censorious day and age.

All in all though, the contents of the special cupboard do sometimes lend themselves to a sort of nostalgic melancholy when you think of what you used to be capable of without such artificial assistances… and more than once a week too.

More than once a day on occasion.

Not forgetting that time on the occasion of the royal wedding when you were both halfway up the Dovedale valley and completely alone. While the rest of the UK population were glued to their TV sets, you both entangled yourselves with each other once on each of the several peaks of the valley. It included some rather over enthusiastic yodelling when she reached into the picnic basket and pulled out the flask of tea while wearing nothing but a smile and a pair of hiking boots.

Nowadays, both of you would struggle to reach even one of those peaks without a rest and a good sit down halfway up. As for the celebratory activities on the peak, you’d need at least a day or two to get over the climb first.

So, all in all, maybe the special cupboard and its multifarious contents are not such a bad thing after all when all is said and, on those all too infrequent occasions, done.

 

Published by David Hadley

A Bloke. Occasionally points at ducks.

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