Tweeds and Discipline

I love dogs, not fussy about tweeds well not as regards wearing them myself, but on others, sometimes, they seem just right. And I've got a bit of a thing about them since a brief encounter we had during our recent trip to Norfolk. You see we met a couple walking along a country lane leading out of the local village, they were posh but nice posh we found out when we got parallel with them and started talking.

I say parallel with them but it was initially her because he, Gerald as we learned, was thirty metres or so behind, stopping periodically to issue commands to his dog. We'd been in the village pub for a snack, our holiday companions had gone into town. We don't normally strike up conversations with complete strangers on a country lane and only got talking because P had stopped to take a photo of a thatched cottage which was tilted at an impossible thirty degree angle to vertical and he couldn't figure out whether it was intentional or in imminent danger of collapse. She saw him snapping on his phone and spoke, with the casual ease some posh people have, saying she didn't think it would last much longer, although she'd thought that last year and the year before. She smiled at her own little joke, she was tanned, she certainly hadn't got it the week we were there, and she was admittedly attractive. P engaged, he pointed to what looked like some recent thatching repairs and said. 'Well someone must think it's going to be around for at least a while because thatching isn't cheap and it looks like recent work has been done.'

I was a few paces ahead, more interested in Gerald not far away and the dog which was a beautiful border collie, but I stopped when I heard the exchange of voices and turned back. Chatting got underway, they lived not far from the village in what had years ago been a holiday home but now they spent most of their time there with Gerald staying in a flat they had in the city a couple of days a week. We introduced ourselves, she was Valerie, she didn't work any more but had been in PR, I could see how easily she would have fitted in with that sort of work. Gerald was still barking orders to his dog but getting nearer in a stop-start way making sure the dog obeyed his instruction each time he paused before moving on. When he got to us it was big city handshakes and beaming smile as if he'd known us for ages but not seen us for a while. He had hunter boots on and a tweed jacket with a cravat and check shirt, I didn't think people wore cravats any more. I asked him about his dog, how old she was, just small talk although I was genuinely interested. She was two years old and coming along nicely, he told us, just a few finer points to get right and more discipline.

Valerie interjected saying 'Oh Gerald and his discipline, he just loves giving orders'. She was looking straight at my eyes as she said it! As if she was looking for a response, a little tell tale unspoken signal, well she got one... I was embarrassed and felt my cheeks blush, I quickly asked if he entered competitions or something but he said no nothing like that, he just liked strict obedience. 'Of course dear,' Valerie chirped in again before P went on to talk about a German shepherd we'd owned who'd been very obedient and loyal. We chatted for several minutes and then Valerie said they would be in the pub Friday lunchtime and if we were doing nothing why didn't we join them, Gerald seconded the idea, only if it suited of course. We explained we were with companions and thought they had something planned. Gerald handed me his card, not to P, to me. Maybe because I was nearest. Anyway we went our separate ways.

So why have I told you this little story, well I honestly think we had met a couple who were possibly kindred spirits and I bottled out of further making acquaintance with them even though I was intrigued. Ridiculous, right, because I meet fellow spankos quite often and chat with them all the time. But these two were somehow intimidating and Gerald seemed so strict yet charming.

I asked P later if he thought we should go to the pub but he said no. Then I told I him  I thought they were possibly into the spanking scene, he agreed but said it was none of our business. Then after a few moments asked me if they had been, and if we went to the pub and if it became clear that they were, would I have accepted an invitation back to their house. For the second time that day I got embarrassed and looked away saying of course not. 'I bet you'd like to really though, wouldn’t you like to be spanked by a bit of posh Totty, or ex army officer type and all that?' my husband goaded. 'Perhaps I’ll just buy you a tweed jacket,' I answered and we left it at that.

'And a dog,' said P with a smile.

Have a good week.

Ronnie
xx