Its all gravy, boys

Opposite my house, quiet, unassuming, and without a hint of trouble or fuss or noise, there is a plain-fronted building with frosted windows and a signless front door.

It is, shall we say, a gentlemans club. A gentlemens club made for gentlemen who wish to enjoy the other company of other gentlemen.

Perhaps while smoking cigars.

Where, you understand, smoking might be a euphemism for something else, and cigars definitely is (because you cant put the business end of one of those in your mouth in ANY public building in the state of California, as far as I am aware).

The funny thing is, you wouldnt even know it was there.

I mean, wed had indications. I work next to the window in the living room and spend a lot of the time gazing out of it for inspiration and procrastination, and so many other things that end with nation.

Except Aryan-nation, Im not a frikking nazi.

And I started to notice that although this building wasnt officially anything at all, or obviously so, it suddenly started getting busy after seven. With men parking up, or revving up on big bikes, or being dropped off, or wandering up the road and then disappearing through the door.

So really – apart from that. And the fact that its much harder for our friends to find parking on some evenings than others. And the fact that sometimes there was just a LOT of leather around the street. Apart from those things, you really wouldnt know they were there. Because the nice thing about having a completely legal sex club as a neighbour is that logically, theyre bound to be the best behaved people on the block; because why draw attention? You already have a loyal member ship. Membership.

To be honest, I only know its there because one of our more curious houseguests got intrigued by the unusual coloured stripes on the flags above the door and googled first them, then when they got even more intrigued, googled the address across the road.

I cant really go into the details very deeply. My mother reads this blog. And I dont want to embarrass anyone who IS actually searching for the event schedule of the place across the road, so I wont mention it by name: you should know only that it has a richly evocative yet down-home friendly, everyday name. Like Fellacho Friends. Or Come Chums Or Pinnis Pals. But not any of those actual things, just a bit like one of those. No guessing in the comment box. Keep it to yourself. Someone has to.

And the stupid thing is, I have no problem with it, clearly, why would you? But end up mentioning it on twitter and dropping it as an aside only because;

a) there really isnt much I can see from my front window. And
b) once you know whats going on in there, it is impossible to UNknow it. so
c) Its just sometimes a bit odd when you suddenly think of so great a volume of excitement and bodily fluid in a so close a proximity of me sitting here trying to finish some work off and filling out my tax return.

I mean, who knows what goes on behind ANY closed door? But again, once you do

You just cant unknow it.

So thats the club opposite my house that I mention sometimes.

I only get reminded of it now when a fire engine and ambulance turn up.

They tend to do that here, Im not sure why. It seems that whether its the fire brigade or the ambulance you need, the other turns up just in case. Or maybe to be friendly. Or maybe the ambulance people just fancy firefighters and follow them around in the hope that one day some strapping person with an impressive helmet will notice them.

Anyway, they occasionally come screeching to a halt opposite my house. We were very worried the first time. But after a while, decided that theres probably just some kind of smoke alarm that gets set off easily by rubbing leather together. Or something

Whats the flashing?

Oh, just a fire engine.

Just a fire engine?

Oh, no, heres the ambulance. Poor lovelorn fools.

Do they look worried?

Not particularly. Maybe something just got stuck in something.

Or wedged somewhere

Someone might have had a choking incident

Oh, do you think you serve food?

I shouldnt think so. I think you need a whole seperate license for that.

Yes Oh! Right. Yes.

Or MAYBE. And this is just a thought: theyre just on a break. So they came to hang out.

Fair enough. What about the policemen?

They dont come and hang out so much. They prefer donuts.

AH! Which is why they have

Holes in the middle. Yes.

Interesting. Youd think the sugar would get a bit, you know


So. Um. Well, you asked.

Gosh I hope my mum stopped reading quite a while ago.