Wrap yourself in my blanket of love Where we’ll hide the hands of time I touch you slowly, embracing your smile I need to let go, I still feel you I close my eyes, I still see you
Shallow words engrave my mind Your lips drift away as I taste your tears Close the door on this searing pain Set free these birds of anxiety Walk the path to my haunted dreams
Is this darkness in my eyes alone? It bears down on my heavy soul Send me to a place where innocence reigns Where I can rest and contemplate my fate
My friend Shaz persuaded me to join her at a well-woman group held in our local village hall.
"I think you could use some advice on how to take proper care of yourself…now that you're fifty", she smirked.
A trifle unnecessary, I thought. She knows that my showbiz age is 29.
She suggested we stop off at the pub for Dutch courage; I wasn't too keen as I wanted to keep my wits about me. I’d seen 'Rosemary's Baby' and needed to be on my guard.
Several large glasses of wine later, we couldn't put it off any longer, we were going in...
I shivered as we entered the coven and was overcome by the fumes of incense and damp wood.
The wine had diminished the nerves but induced the paranoia.
Shaz and I giggled as we pushed each other in to the room which had been set up with chairs in a circle. I spotted a cheap ghetto blaster and prayed we wouldn't have to dance naked with each other.
Women began to arrive in twos and threes, and a few on their own, hiding behind their hair - one lady in particular; she had a beard.
They began to fan themselves while asking "Is it me or is it hot in here?". We sized each other up as we sat on the edge of the hormonal circle of love.
A tattooed teenager lifted a Greggs paper bag to her open mouth as she poured in the remains of a Cornish pasty.
Beardy lady watched while unwrapping a Turkish Delight.
It suddenly dawned on tattoo girl that she was in the wrong place; she had meant to attend the psychic class held by Madame Hazel from the post office.
But before she could make a clean getaway, a vision appeared in a cloud of cheap perfume.
She switched on the ghetto blaster with her fuchsia talons, every move carefully choreographed.
The dulcet tones of Helen Reddy invaded the room as comfy shoes tapped the floor.
Beardy lady almost smiled.
The pink vision stood in the middle of the oracle and drew breath….we all leaned forward in confused anticipation.
"Hello everybody, I'm Katie and I'm here for all of you this evening, gathered together. As I say, I'm Katie".
I swear she did a quick curtsey, though her thong could have been riding up.
Katie went on to explain she used to be a nurse in Kirkcaldy before adding she had recently won ‘Slimmer of the Year' with the Calorie Counter group who meet on Thursdays.
She led the ‘spontaneous' applause and beardy lady looked at the floor.
Katie slowly sat down on the red bucket chair. But for this evening, it was her gilt-edged throne.
We were instructed to introduce ourselves and state how old we felt. I said I felt 29 and Shaz shot me one her looks.
Katie tilted her over-bleached head and stared at me, pouting her glossy mouth.
I saw no signs of life. I don't think there ever were.
She blinked back to life, smiled and introduced herself again before moving onto Shaz who got an attack of the hiccups. I thumped her back and she choked on her Breakaway but it did the trick.
I could sense the hostility from the sisterhood bearing into my very soul.
Katie announced we were all special, I glanced around the room and shifted in my seat as I leant across and whispered to Shaz, ‘Special needs, more like’.
I could see Shaz was getting sucked in. Was I the only one who had noticed Katie was one talon short of a manicure?
Tattoo girl was now chomping her way through a cream horn.
The CD was changed after the opening song, eerie sounds of whale music filled the room, I checked behind me for men in robes or the occasional mammal.
Katie looked at each of us rather menacingly before raising her arms and shouting "Let’s embrace the menopause".
Whaaaaatttt???????
I looked on in bewilderment as she described brittle bones, hairy moles, porridge brain, weight gain, heartburn and so forth.
The incense over-powered the smell of fear in the room.
Katie’s lecture was accompanied by her clumsy attempts at matchstick drawings on a wobbly flip-chart which had seen better days. She invited questions from the group but everyone had lost the power of speech while I had lost the will to live.
Katie threw back her head and let out a random chilling laugh before moving on to weak bladders.
Beardy lady and I almost bonded as we yawned, stretched and strained our necks to see if there was a hint of a Wagon Wheel on the trestle table.
Katie felt the need to demonstrate a pelvic muscle floor exercise; she lay down and arched her back as her pink lycra buttocks contracted, she let out sounds that should only be heard in a cheap motel room.
I don't think that performance was anything to do with the menopause.
She invited us to feel her pelvis contracting, everyone leapt up to cop a feel as I grabbed the last Gypsy Cream.
Beardy lady seemed quite excited but she remained seated and picked fluff from her ski-pants.
Tattoo girl's shaking hand pulled back the ring on a can of Lilt as Katie was man-handled by women in cardigans.
Katie rose from the floor like a phoenix rising from the ashes and looked a little flushed as she breathlessly promised "Your pelvis will be your friend, if you treat her well. Especially in the autumn of your descending years. As I say."
She proceeded to hand out various leaflets, one contained diagrams and pictures that no-one needs to see, not even well-women.
I glanced at a leaflet with the heading Ann Summers Party!
Now I understood the point of her little pelvic display; only the battery-operated appliance was missing from her seedy floor show.
I looked around the group and pictured these women in Nylon baby-dolls, marabou handcuffs and chocolate-coated nipples.
I suddenly felt quite queasy.
I dragged Shaz out of the room, leaving beardy lady perspiring over the Rampant Rabbit price list.
We deeply inhaled the fresh air, it felt good to be outside. I shook Shaz by the shoulders and made her swear that we would never, ever go to any of these evil meetings again.
We returned to the pub to celebrate our escape from Salem while Shaz felt her face for hairy moles.
The doors opened and tattoo girl walked in with beardy lady, they ordered Cokes and sat in silence.
I looked at Shaz who was now testing her arms for brittle bones.
My eyes searched the room for any signs of sanity.
I was fighting a losing battle as I spied a tipsy Madame Hazel staring into her glass of wine as if it was her cherished crystal ball.
