Thank God that's all over! All I can remember from the New Years' Eve party is Olga being pressed up against the kitchen wall by an admirer with his hands all over her nether region. 'Tits first, I'm not a slag!' I heard her say as I walked past to refresh my wine. It reminded of the bulb catalogue I had ordered. The description of the roses said 'No good in a bed but fine against a wall'. All we've got to do now is try and stick to our New Year resolutions. Mine is to keep my tights drawer tidy so it doesn't explode when I open it ending up with tights all over the floor. Olga has, as always, made so many: one is to stick to the diet she stopped on the 2nd. January last year, another is to 'up' the value of shoplifting expeditions, and also to join the WRVS on account of the tweed skirt, black tights and flat sensible shoes. She also says that she's giving up men this year: 'They're like snowstorms: you never know when they're coming, how many inches you'll get, or how long it will last!' I have said 'absolutely no' to the latest one she came up with and that was to get me to become a regular cross dresser - she reckons that if I wear a skirt she'll have easy access, and that by me cross dressing she can have a girl friend who doesn't get PMS! But all that seems such a long time ago. She's lucky to be out hospital now. If only she hadn't signed up for those evening classes!……..

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If Olga hadn't bent over backwards she would never had been expelled from the 'Vera Smugsworth's Academy of Pole Dancing: Standard, Jazz and Erotic'. She saw the card in the Newsagents window. She enrolled a few months ago and was doing her 'Erotic Bronze Star Certificated Examination (Module 1)' when disaster struck. Doing it on the bar - in class - with everyone else watching, wearing very strained leotard (' always get one size smaller, Vera says it holds everything in better') and fishnets, was one of the most embarrassing events I have attended. The pole slowly buckled as she put more weight on it -everyone could see that it was going to give. As she had her legs spread out and put her head right back so her hair was almost touching the bar - (well, it would have been if she had taken her hair net off), the pole snapped. She crashed down onto the bar - that in turn gave way, the MDF just split under her weight, and she ended up on the floor leaving everyone aghast. She looked somewhat like a beached whale - poor girl! All I can remember her saying, as the ambulance men were lifting her, was: 'Mind my fishnets -they're Italian' - she hadn't noticed that half of them were hanging on the stump of what was left of the pole. Anyway, the doctors said that she would be in for about ten days until her back has completely healed. But she mustn't put any strain on it for at least six months. So that cancels 'gentlemen callers' for a bit. And then there's that letter from the Academy - the one with the invoice for a new bar and pole and suggestion that she might look for 'more suitable' career elsewhere'. I still haven't shown her that yet. When I took her in the doctor took me aside and said: "I don't like the look of your wife'. I told him we were just friends and that I didn't like the look of her either - 'but then she is very good in the kitchen and she does like children'. But all this leaves me to think what would I do if I had an accident and was carted off to hospital wearing tights? Has this ever happened to you? Or are you a nurse and had men wearing tights admitted to hospital? Your comments below would be most appreciated. Last time I went to hospital because I had sprained my ankle running. I was wearing running tights (Addidas - best men's) so nobody said anything. But when do running tights and sportswear like that become tights? And at what point do tights become 'unacceptable' for men to wear? Running tights are fine as long as we keep running. But running along in 10 den stw nude Pretty Polly's would cause a stir. It's just a thought really. Your comments please! Olga came home two days before Christmas so all was well really. So we were able to celebrate Christmas together at least.

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It's always a problem at Christmas -what to do with parents. I sent my mother a nice pair of expensive tights she always goes on about and a very select bottle of her favorite French perfume. All I got was a letter to make me feel guilty:

My Dear Son,
Merry Christmas to you and please don't worry. I'm just fine considering that I can't breathe or eat.
The important thing is that you have a nice Christmas what seem to me like thousands of miles away from your ailing mother. I've sent along my last ten pounds in this card, which I hope you'll spend on something nice for yourself and not that woman you live with. God knows her mother never buys her anything nice. Is she still eating so much? - she looks enormous in that photo you sent me of you both at that party. I hope it was nice. Why are you wearing shorts? You should wrap up warm. You legs look so shiny in the reflection of the flash bulb. Does she cook for you the right foods? I see your friend Nigel in the picture is also with shiny legs and shorts- maybe you should both go to the doctor. His shorts are too flimsy - makes it look like a skirt. And why does he wear high heels - is he a midget? Maybe you caught the shiny leg syndrome from him? I wouldn't have been able to come to the party on account of my current ailments - so just as well you didn't invite me. Though an invitation would have been nice to say 'no thanks' to.
Thank you so much for the tights, dear boy. I put them in the freezer so they'll stay fresh for my coffin when they dress me. Which reminds me -- we buried Grandma last week. I know she died years ago, but I got to yearning for a good funeral so Aunt Augusta and I dug her up and had the services all over again. I would have invited you but I know that woman you live with would have never let you come. I bet she's never even watched that videotape of my haemorrhoid operation, has she?……………
The letter goes on and on so I won't bore you. Olga's parents couldn't have come even if they wanted to. He doesn't get released till August 2009 and her mother was sectioned soon after he was sentenced. She was so depressed about it all she wanted to shoot herself and called the hospital to ask where her heart was. After being transferred from here to there a nurse told that her heart was under her left breast. She was admitted later that day with self- inflicted gunshot wounds to her left thigh. She went straight from hospital to the Mental Home.

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So Mike wants to keep his tights drawer tidy: Here's how: Start keeping toilet roll cores. Each empty toilet roll core can hold a pair of tights. I usually fold my tights to about palm-sized, and stuff it into the core. Each pair should fit nicely into one core, without much of it dangling out. You can write on each toilet core what is inside - mentioning colour, den, and make. Add any other information you want (even what you thought of them and at what occasion you wore them last). And when I travel, I just pop as many filled cores as I need in the luggage, and I don't have to worry about tearing the tights accidentally! Simple really! Mike should have read my book! (Volume One:'1001 Things to do with Tights', page 287, para 6 refers, available at all good bookshops) If you want to comment on any of the above - please do so by visiting this link: Comments.

Happy New Year Everyone!