The Idiot, the Farmer and Me Ch. 01

"Yeah, well..."

"THREE thousand pounds Les," I said, "Or I tell them about your other two lock-ups as well..."

"Oh come on Sammy, you'll see me in the fuckin' poor 'ouse!"

"Without even stopping for breath Les, by next Friday..."

I put the phone down on him.

I'd said three because I knew he would scratch up a couple of grand in a few days and he'd think by giving me that, he'd won. I didn't give a shit actually; Ray was at work and was paying for his upkeep, the playgroups I ran with my sister were paying quite nicely and I just wanted some spending money for the holiday we were going to have once the school term had finished and to celebrate Izzy finishing her exams.

We did and all had our first proper foreign holiday ever, spending the three grand the Idiot Ex was somehow able to find.

On that holiday I picked up a novel from the hotel bookcase and started to read it laying on my sun lounger. It was a romance, one of those 'lonely brunette heads out to the Australian outback and meets the handsome rancher' things, and the cover caught my eye because the heroine looked a lot like me.

For some reason that really turned me on!

After many years of almost no sexual appetite I was walking around a Mediterranean swimming pool in a very clingy swimsuit and getting lots of looks from lots of men and I suddenly remembered I had a libido.

I took my book to bed that night and as the brunette woman was getting ravaged in the Ranchers outback outbuilding I remember the feeling in my loins and me having to slide a hand down under my nightdress and into my panties, feeling around for all the bits and pieces the Idiot Ex, and me I suppose, had ignored for so long.

The book explained what the rancher did to the brunette so I did the same, touching what he was touching in the same manner. I had nothing at all phallic that I could recreate the most intense moments with but I had my very first solo orgasm that wonderful hot night on the Costa del Sol.

The first because I'd shared a bedroom with sister Denise until I married the Idiot Ex and moved out, and my pleasure was never really an issue with him.

But fucking hell, I played my finger across my clit, slipping and sliding in my own wetness and I came, gasping in the most wonderful shock, my hips straining up to the ceiling as I reached for the moment again, not convinced that I could recreate it.

I recreated it four times that night flicking through the book for the next sexy bits, and from that night I became a regular masturbator, cursing myself that I hadn't discovered this pastime before. It was free, harmless, relaxing and stress relieving, relatively easy to do, bothered no one and I was to discover could only get better - a discovery I made when when one of our Playgroup ladies invited Den and I to an Ann Summers party at her place. I took the catalogue home and bought a whole selection of stuff that still lives in my bedside table drawer along with my outback sex manual (sorry hotel management, I had to have it and it still occasionally sees the light of day when I'm in the mood).

My all-time favourite toy is still a long pink penis shaped dildo with the most convenient sucker that enabled me to stick it on any one of five flat surfaces in my bedroom and bathroom and screw myself stupid with it. The tiny vibrator on my clit at the same time was... well... you know.

I did think about another man to share it all with but my experiences of men had not been that promising and I was focussed on Ray, Izzy and their education and careers and on my new business.

Izzy went to college and then to Southampton University and is now an in-debt but qualified physiotherapist at the hospital ten minutes away from her Fiancé Ed's parents place, hence her move there before their wedding.

She had originally met Edward at the army cadets they were both members of when they were at their secondary schools, and when they saw each other again at an anniversary event held for ex-cadets she told me that she knew he was the one as soon as their eyes met across a crowded army base.

They had both joined as School Year Seven's, eleven-year-olds in the same intake, and had gone on the same evenings, weekends and to the same summer camps, and I vaguely remembered his parents. The nature of the cadets meant that along with all of their friends, Ed and Izzy worked and played together but there was never much in the way of romance for them, the geekier ones, because of the 'army' aspect of the thing; at least that was the excuse they all seemed to give. Ed and Izzy were really good friends though and left just before their seventeenth birthdays and their first college exams, both as quite senior sergeants.

To add to their geeky lack of self-confidence in everything but the cadets, she had convinced herself she was unattractive, and spotty and a bit flat chested with a big bum in proportion to the rest of her, while Ed actually had been a bespectacled, lanky, spotty, pigeon chested mouse who wouldn't have said boo to a goose let alone a pretty girl, even one that didn't think she was that pretty.

They had been really good mates but fell out of touch as so many people do moving from real life to university, even though they both did social media. In this case he did Facebook while she was a dedicated Tweeter, so through those differences in App's they didn't keep up with the changes in the lives of the other through university.

But in the four years that had passed Izzy had matured as expected and her chest expanded just like all of the Higgins girls did so that she no longer a big arsed, slender geek with a flat chest, she was a perfect Higgins hourglass with dark lustrous hair and big, brown doe eyes and her skin had cleared up, overnight almost.

By the time she came home after her first year and showing her cleavage she looked amazing! OK, perhaps I had been overfeeding her at home, perhaps I tended towards the less sexy when I bought her clothes but free to arrange her own kitchen and with enough money to the buy clothes SHE wanted to fit her sexy figure even her loving but cheeky big brother noticed, especially once I took her clothes shopping with my credit card, got her hair professional dressed and she came home all curves, long wavy hair and long shapely legs and he became even more protective than he was before!

With added confidence she blossomed emotionally as well as physically and I couldn't have been prouder at how my beautiful girl had become a beautiful woman that summer.

Her friend Ed had undergone a similar three year collegiate metamorphosis -- his skin had cleared up as well and free from school bullies and piss takers, he had taken up rugby just because he loved the game.

Thanks to the training and confidence building (and his contact lenses) he now looked like he played for England, the 1st fifteen at least. His maturity had him growing out of the many food eccentricities he'd developed as a teenager, and as he worked out for his rugby playing he'd started to turn every girl's head within sight of him but still didn't feel brave enough to return their looks.

Not until he saw the friendly and recognisable face of my Izzy smiling back at him of course.

It was at the 100th anniversary of the cadet unit they'd committed so much time to. It had been formed in response to the threat of World War One and as 2014 came close the unit decided to capitalise on the connexion and all former cadets were invited back for a celebration and commemoration evening via the local papers, social media (of course) and even a spot on the local TV news.

Now a grown up and gorgeous newly qualified physiotherapist, she was keen to go and see just what had happened to her friends in the four years since they'd last met, and as an homage to those days walked there. She arrived quite early and was handed a programme by one of the latest cadets and she turned to see who else was there. She looked straight at Ed and smiled. He smiled back and was really nervous until her jaw dropped in a pleased recognition as she mouthed "Ed?" to him.

He looked straight at her, looking twice and not believing that the gorgeous red-lipped brunette fashion model lookalike wearing the stretchy, figuring-hugging, above-the-knee olive green dress bought especially was who he thought she was and looking just as amazed as she had done, mouthed "Izzy?" back at her.

They both walked across the room to the other and not knowing what else to do shook hands, and she confessed to being as tongue tied as him, the tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular looking hottie in his tailored suit. They chuckled, blushed, both starting to talk again in their excited embarrassment noticing but not noticing their other friends that started to assemble, some in the uniforms of the army units they had joined displaying the medals they had earned and talking about their jobs as much as their deployments, but Izzy and Ed only had eyes for each other, talking about halls of residence, graduation ceremonies and student loans as the event was called to order.

They sat next to each other of course. After the presentations were done and the very senior army officer, an ex-cadet himself, along with the local Bishop re-dedicated the memorial to their own fallen since 1914, up to and including one of their alumni that had been added, killed in Afghanistan a few years before, and even Izzy was wiping away tears.

Ed handed her a tissue and so sweetly put a comforting hand on hers and she didn't mind. Once the evening started to draw to a close Ed asked if she might like to grab something to eat on their way home - as they would have done those few years before. Not from the sweaty burger van that had parked by the bus stop for most of their teenage years but the posh craft restaurant across from the barracks.

After their impromptu meal and much bringing up to date he drove her back to our house and after getting her number and asking to see her the very next night, they kissed goodnight. They were so impressed with that idea that they kept kissing each other goodnight until gone one thirty in the morning. Soooo sweet

Two years on and between them they had scrimped, saved, booked, made and arranged. I had always been desperate that my lovely Izzy would break the Higgins mould and get a good one - and she had. Ed was a hard-working IT manager, he was honest, loved Izzy every bit as much as she loved him and his family was a joy.

They both worked hard, and Izzy insisted that no way would she take advantage of some of the benefits of her Idiot father's 'contacts'.

Yes, after him calling her names and the big falling out we had started to talk again, mostly so I could get the last of the maintenance money he still owed me, and despite taking very little interest in his children for the last six years suddenly he was all parental and desperate to 'give his Bella away in church'. Sadly it came with all of his usual dodgy 'old school' bollocks.

For instance, he offered to get her cut price booze for the reception; but couldn't confirm exactly what is was likely to be...

(Chances are because it hadn't been stolen yet.)

The reception was next - he knew a mate that could get them a really nice hall over a factory unit seeing as he was banned from the club... temporarily o' course...

(Yeah, like either of my children ever wanted to go back to that place again).

Oooohkay, yeah the unit smelled a bit funny sometimes but if she 'ad the ceremony on a Sunday afternoon the smell was 'ardly noticeable and there was plenty of parking on the industrial estate 'cos it was so far out o' town. He'd even show people the best places to park so their motors din't get thieved...

(Thanks but no thanks.)

Cars; he could get her all the cars she wanted see, real nice ones an' all 'wiv drivers in suits and every'fing. They was all pukka London taxis, proper posh... weeeeeell they had all BEEN London taxis like, but now they was gettin' on a bit an' on the Minicab circuit - still good though and nuffink a quick spray of that Fabreeze wouldn't sort out, p'raps a rug in the one the bride was ridin' in, what wiv' the dress bein' white an' all...

(They politely declined).

He appeared at my flat one afternoon with some cheaply printed invitation cards and grandly presented them to her and Ed like it was the answer to all their prayers stepping back ready to accept their praise. Having been turned down for some of the big stuff he just went ahead and got these done, despite having been shown the ones they'd chosen already.

Ed didn't look too chuffed about them and the Idiot Ex took offence.

"Wassup wiv' 'em!" he snapped, "nah, doan' tell me, not posh enough I 'spect, no gold leaf or fancy writin'!"

"No," said, Ed. "My Mum's name is Gwyneth, not Gwendoline and it's Taylor with a Y, not an i," said Ed to Izzy trying desperately not to upset his soon to be Father-in-law. Izzy was not so gentle.

"I can't use these Dad," she said, "as well as getting the names wrong, there's two spelling mistakes!"

"That don't matta'!" said the Idiot Ex with a big confidence trickster wink and a smile whispering, "no one'll notice."

"Dad!" she almost screamed, "Everyone will notice, there has always been two R's in 'marriage'! Anyway, I told you we'd picked the ones we wanted!" She looked flabbergasted, if only at the waste, "Didn't you check them?"

He probably had but like men of his generation and ilk the last thing they could ever do was admit their own foibles or short comings especially to their own kids, God forbid a daughter.

"Well..." he said, looking at the floor, "a mate let me print them and... like... in his lunch hour when no one else was about see and..."

"I'm not having anything hooky at my wedding Dad, I told you!"

"Beggars can't be choosers Isabel!" he said with a pointed and admonishing finger as he tried to get firm with his daughter, but she was a grown up, very well educated and wasn't having any of it.

"We are not beggars Dad, if we can't afford it, we're not having it," she snapped back.

"Well, I thought I would be helping you out like."

"Thanks Dad, I do appreciate it but you should have asked me. And why on earth have you printed so many, there was must be hundreds here."

"Five 'undred!" He said proudly.

"Five hundred?!" she screeched in disbelief.

"Yeah well, everyone wants to come Bella!" he grinned.

THERE it was...

I guessed this was the reason he'd taken such an interest in the goings-on.

"Yeah well everyone isn't coming Dad," she said, "It's just family and our friends."

"Well what about all my family?" he said with a whine of indignation.

"You haven't got any," I said.

That was true, his few remaining relatives had fallen out with him over the years, before he'd shagged his cousin and got his second cousin pregnant even, and only contacted him when they wanted to trade, buy, sell or hide something, occasionally themselves.

"Well what about my mates from the club," he said indignantly, "most of them have watched you grow up."

"I haven't been there in fifteen years!" she snapped at him and his mouth flapped a bit.

"Yeah... well.." he gave up on that and just shook his head and pursed his lips, "well, they all knows when it's happ'nin and will all expect an invite Bella?" He cocked his head and folded his arms with a 'how you gonna sort THAT one out' look.

"How?" she growled and stepped closer to him.

He took a step back from the bride on a mission.

"How... what?"

"How does a bunch of people I don't know seem to know my wedding day?"

With hands on her hips and fire in her belly she stepped closer to him, her top lip curling at him in the same way that mine did. He saw it and took another step back.

"Err... weeeeeell," he quickly cottoned on that his gambit wasn't going to happen and his daughter was REALLY pissed with him, "...when I say everyone, it's really just yer Nan an' Auntie Jane an' Auntie Fay an' all o' them."

"They're all invited!" she snapped back, her head full of visions of having to cancel everything because of a herd of gate-crashers arriving for the reception and the trouble they would cause when they were refused entry.

I picked up the invites and carried them to my recycling bin and dumped them all.

The Idiot Ex looked at me, he was cross about that.

"So none of those good people can come then," said the market trader trying to play his audience, "they 'bin my mates for bloody years..." he said with a protruding bottom lip

"But they aren't my mates or Ed's mates Dad," she said, "we're limited to 150 people for the evening, and with our family and friends that's going to be really close."

"Well," he said contemplating his fingernails, "how about I just invite 50 from the club then, they'll all bring presents, and you know they won't be cheap!"

That wasn't a lie so much as a difference in outlook. They wouldn't be cheap in the realms of the places that he dealt but given the usual quality of the shit he bought and sold any gift from him or his mates would be unlikely to last the journey from the suitcase to the carpark.

Added to that she just wouldn't want a 12" by 18" 'genuine' Italian Capo de Monte (style) figurines of 'tramp on bench feeding birds', or 'a pair of matching dancing ragged urchins', nor the 'Crystal effect' regency style chandelier (no bulbs larger than 10 watts -- may overheat - made in the ROC) that would be too big for the third runway at Heathrow; or, God forbid, the plastic handled 'ranch style' cutlery set that was out of fashion twenty years before and had been the Idiot Ex's stock-in trade for so many years.

"Dad!" cried Izzy, "That's 150 people all together! Not just our family."

"Yeah well," said the Idiot Ex in exasperation, "this is what happens when you book some poncey hotel in the arse end of nowhere!" He folded his arms and raised his voice as if he was the font of wisdom, "if you'd listened to ME," he whined and counted on his fingers, "you could have 500 people, loads of pressies, free wedding cars, free booze all night, a proper band and a proper knees up!" He snapped, getting cross now.

"DAD!" snapped Izzy louder and crosser, "if you want to have a proper knees up, then you get married and you have one. This is my and Ed's day, not yours and I'm not inviting half of the Tottenham underworld low-life's and mafia just so you can get pissed with your mates like you do every Saturday!"

He took another 'self-preservation' step-back.

"Oh well," he said, hanging his head like a scolded school boy, "I see; that's that then innit, Naaaah," he breathed out shaking his head, "don't want poor old Dad involved and lowering the tone do yah, I get it." He stuck his nose in the air, "I s'pose you won't want me to give ya away then," he strolled towards my front door, "I'll find some'fing else to do that day." He sniffed in hurt parenthesis.

Izzy knew what a drama queen her Dad could be and let him get on with it. He slowed down waiting for the call back. It didn't come.

Worse, Izzy hit back with a big fat slice of drama of her own.

"Mum, lend me your phone; seeing as Dad doesn't want to give me away, I'll ask Uncle Mike!"

He stopped dead, bluff called. He turned around.

"Over my dead body."

Oh if only...

My extended family and the Idiot Ex's all were all East Enders and from one area, a big post war council estate, while Ed's weren't. They were originally from Greater London, but as his Dad's IT business took off he moved south to Surrey and I was quite happy when Izzy moved in with him and his parents before they bought their own place. I missed her and still do, but we talk on the phone all the time, and now I have Wi-Fi and a tablet computer we skype.

My wayward but generally well-meaning, dodgy extended family all seemed to revel in their flaws and mishaps, while Ed's family were just normal. Nicely, boringly, averagely normal; no one was in prison, no cousin was being chased by Birmingham Yardies for unpaid drugs bills, no one had outstanding arrest warrants, none of them supplied 'car spares' that when ordered were still attached to the car that the owner wouldn't even know was missing until the next morning, with the engine still warm from the speedy drive across the city to an undisclosed lock-up for removal.