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Hola beautiful people.

ARMacleod.
Hola Damas y Caballeros hermosos.

It has been so long since I posted anything, I have visited occasionally and sadly, have noticed many of the ‘beautiful' people that I grew to know so well seemed have posted less and less until eventually they have disappeared from the site altogether. (Not you Kerry, your absence is subject of much rejoicing)

Recap: I met this bundle of Colombian hair in a bistro in Paris when I was visiting the town on a booze trip with my daughter. We ‘clicked' (long story in previous post) she was so beautiful I started cleaning her shoes with my tongue. She smacked me on the head with a bottle of ‘Chablis' what a waste of good glass.

A long courtship followed and regrettably floundered on the rocks. Living together for six months we seemed to make each others life hell.

She had been divorced for many years and I for a short time, Colombian females and my ex military/police/teaching psychology did not mix, much to my regret. I know in a way, I still love that lady, but we were so different, it could not survive.

My divorce from my wife some years ago did not work out either, we remarried a couple of weeks ago on her birthday (June 21) longest day of the year, and it seemed like it. (Sorry, I just cannot resist the joke)

Well, in the words of ‘cowboy' ‘DM' and I think others, we are now trying to push the correct buttons.

I loved my time in Colombia. (Bogota mainly) I never felt threatened at any time. In my mind I often stray back to the wonderful times that I had there, memories of the time I started a riot outside the ‘Plaza del Toro' when I spat on the name of an English Matador, on a sign outside the slaughterhouse of the arena. The Policeman frantically releasing his dog (Weimaraner) the dog turned round and bit the handler. Great.(I legged it up the road to my lady's flat) The crowd cheered resoundingly. It was a good day.

I remember trying to take a photograph of my girlfriend outside the bank in the centre of the town (a plinth with many bronze animals, beautiful) A person brandishing a pistol came at me suggesting that I go away, I suggested that he would look silly with the gun poking out of his A55, the police released me later in the day, I was on a promise to behave myself, strangely, they took the stance that I, being Scottish, was eccentric, I could be excused this behaviour?
The fact that my lady was crying hysterically could have helped, I think they just wanted me the hell out of the place.

I am very old now, but Colombia will always hold a special place in my heart. I now live in India, but that is another story which I will give to the site if anyone is interested.

Best of love from ARMacleod.

By BaJaHa on Aug 7, 2007, 09:16 in Friendly Talkzone.

honey says on Aug 7, 2007, 22:26:

Please tell more stories, they are absolutely hysterical.

Life is what happens when you're busy making plans - John Lennon.

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Desideria (Moderator) (Trustee board) says on Aug 7, 2007, 22:39:

Welcome back, ARM!!! We have missed you a LOT!.You are the Number One PBHer who never failed to make me laugh. Congrats on you marriage and perhaps you will have some more time for us now that you are not out there chasing women;)

Cheers,
Desi

"When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"(First Witch in Macbeth)

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Desideria (Moderator) (Trustee board) says on Aug 9, 2007, 09:31:

BUMP

"When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"(First Witch in Macbeth)

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john_stark says on Aug 9, 2007, 17:54:

Now this is a guy you like to see come back. An interesting POV and none of the same old same old. Tell us about India.

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BaJaHa says on Aug 10, 2007, 01:07:

OK a quick funny for now.

My lady and I met as I said in Paris, the problem was that she could not speak a word of English and I equally ignorant of spoken Spanish.

When I got in touch with her again, months later, I had studied just enough to make gentle introductions, our relationship blossomed, we spoke on the phone for hours every day in what could only be called and somewhat haltingly, a mixture of Spanglish/gibberish that otherwise would be classed as utter nonsense. Anyway it was probably the longest combination of chatting up and foreplay in the history of any relationship.

I had taken to calling her all the mushy lovey dovey names that one does and she responded likewise, we finally ended up calling each other the shortened version of ‘scrumptious' i.e. ‘Scrummy'

The great day came when I finally arrived at the airport in Bogota and through the large smoked glass I could see her and that great mass of hair that had caught my eye in the first place, so many months before that moment.

Finally the official opened the door and I walked out into the Bogota sunshine, at this point it is worth noting that our respective commands of the language had not improved greatly, especially the pronunciation.

However, she saw me and started forward, I dropped my suitcase and moved towards her with my arms opened wide.
"SCRUMMY!" I shouted.
And from her at the top of her voice "J A M E S... S C R E W M E E E E!"

An American lad with whom I had been speaking previously said something like "Man, that is one hell of a welcome"

~Apart from a few phrases in ancient Hebrew, I take it for granted that God has never spoken anything else but the most perfect and elegant Oxford English~
.....Anon.....

ARMacleod

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BaJaHa says on Aug 10, 2007, 01:40:

When I die, I want to be in Goa, India or Bogota, Colombia. I want to be 120 and my wife to be so upset she has to drop out of school

WOMAN'S POEM

Before I lay me down to sleep,
I pray for a man, who's not a creep,
One who's handsome, smart and strong.
And also who loves to listen long,
Who always thinks before he speaks,
One who'll call, not wait for weeks.
I pray he's gainfully employed,
When I spend his cash, he won't be annoyed.
Pulls out my chair and opens my door,
Massages my back and begs to do more.
Oh! Send me a man who'll make love to my mind,
Knows what to answer to "how big is my behind?"
I pray that this man will love me to no end,
And always be my very best friend.

MAN'S POEM

I pray for a deaf-mute nymphomaniac with huge boobs who owns a liquor
store and a golf course.
This doesn't rhyme and I don't care.

NB: Poets have been strangely silent on the subject of cheese.

I shall put pen to paper and try to explain the fantasy world that is India in due course.

Love to all. ARMacleod

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honey says on Aug 10, 2007, 01:44:

Please start writing your memoirs...they are the best!

Life is what happens when you're busy making plans - John Lennon.

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