I love bluebells, and have done for years, but sadly I often miss them. Sometimes it’s due to being busy writing, and I forget that spring has sprung, other times it’s because I’ve annoyingly contracted some illness just as they sprout.
But there’s something about them which I love, I don’t know why, but they just seem very special to me. Sadly the bluebells are dieing again and I have one fantasy I have been trying to bring to life for the past few year: to have sex in a knee-high bluebell field. Each year something has gotten in the way of this, and while I’ve managed to have plenty of alfresco sex outside with partners, we have always missed shagging in the bluebells.
Tomorrow I’m hoping it’s going to happen. I am going to take the day off and buy some picnicking supplies and gin, and head out to a bluebell flied with a lover. I know I said I plan to stay in and write all week, but it’ll bug me all year if I don’t even attempt to have sex in the bluebells this year, and therefore will delay and interfere with my work efforts.
While I’m talking about bluebells, there’s also a nursery rhyme I remembered as I walked through some today, and you can listen to it here on Youtube: Tiptoe Through The Bluebells
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