Monday, 31 March 2014

Fisherman on My Pillow

I'm rather afraid the inevitable has happened and it's only to be expected given the amount of time in the last year that I've spent in Brixham, home to one of the UK's largest fishing fleets.  Temptation has overwhelmed me and I've given my heart to the burly trawlerman who's been vying for my affection from the very first time that I clapped eyes on him. Luckily I will not have to endure the whiffs of mackerel and damp innards of rigger boots.  For the gorgeous man that has been given unfettered access to the inner sanctum that is the boudoir of Lovelygrey is odour-free.  He's Cornish, about five inches high and made of clay.

Since first meeting 'Fisherman' by  Bernard Moss in someone else's home a few years back I was blown away by the joyful demeanour that he shares with his magnificent catch.  I love his colour palette, chunkiness and intricate design.  Bad thoughts about kidnapping him came to mind.  Surely his owner wouldn't notice that he'd eloped.

Fortunately I denied my inner thief the chance to make her grand entrance into the world.  I don't think my plea that this was a crime of passion would have been an adequate defence in court.  So I looked for legitimate means to secure a union.  This sibling of the original who is, of course, identical in every way was found on Ebay.  He was lonely and in need of the love of a good woman.  How could I have refused him?

1 comment:

  1. What bliss to own something desired for so long!