Having been what is politely termed a ‘luddite’ for some time, slightly less politely termed a ‘late adopter’ (Marketing Speak for ‘sad buggers who don’t buy consumer goods unless they have to use them to breathe’) and rather rudely a ‘old relic’, I’ve decided to bore everyone rigid on Twitter instead of my blog. The idea being, I can’t possibly say anything that HWMBO will take offence to/find embarrassing  in 140 characters.

Ha ha ha. Yes, I thought that was funny as well. How about:

‘HWMBO has recently had a sex change. Can we all please call him Hilda from now on? Go her!’

And

‘Official – HWMBO and Jessica have recovered from Chlamydia. Now safe to shag again!’

And

‘HM Revenue & Customs (Vice Squad) confirms suspension of this account.’

Anyway, ahem. Yes, I joined Twitter, so hopefully you can enjoy my (slightly shorter) drivel in another environment. You can find me @FawcettHall!

In the wake of the John Terry scandal, the debate was about should private business stay private or if you were a public figure, did the public have the right to know. Rather naturally, the big interview was John Humphries* talking to Max Mosley. Mosley, as you will remember, took the News of The World to court and won when they invaded his privacy by filming and publishing details of his private BDSM session with five young ladies.

Mosley has been a standard-carrier for those on the scene and I often think, that given that people like us are often treated as the homosexuals of the sixties in the press, that he is not only brave but an intelligent and amusing advocate for us all, who is dignified and yet unrepentant about his tastes. I thought he gave a really good interview despite John Humphries needling him (although you could tell from the tone of Humphries’s voice that he agreed with Mosley). But the bit I really admired was this. John Humphries asked him, if in the light of everything that had come to pass; he regretted indulging in S&M.

“No. No, I don’t actually.” said Mosley.

At that point (I was naked at the time, combing my wet hair), I punched the air and capered about the bedroom. When was the last time you heard a public figure tell you, live on air, that he didn’t regret a thing? When did you last hear such an honest response from anyone who’s been caught indulging themselves in private? Not from any of the so-called moral arbiters of our society, such as the press, politicians, sporting or religious figures.

Like I said – gotta love that man!

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*Who incidentally, I really fancy.

When I really was in school, I didn’t really run with the crowd. This was partly because in my school, the dodgiest of dodgy comprehensives, being clever automatically made you uncool. But I was a late starter with lots of things – boys, drinks, smoking* and I wasn’t interested in the usual female pursuits of music and clothes. I was reminded of myself as a teenager when listening to a song by The Saturdays recently…

I always used to be the shy girl,
Not a hot girl and not’ your type’ girl
I never cared about the cool clothes
About the right shoes, making the right moves…

I’m not used to being the first pick
Like the cool chick, from the in-clique
I have always gone my own way
Been my own girl, in my own world…

So at school, I was always the eccentric. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. And in a strange way, people respected that.

In my adult life, I’ve tried to do the same thing. It’s not always easy. I’m often the person who ends up going out on a limb, saying that I’m not keen on something that someone else has suggested. I don’t at all see that as an insult to the other person – just because I’m not keen doesn’t mean that it’s  bad idea, but it’s my choice if I want to participate or not. But then, after I’ve stuck my neck out and been the one who risks offending the person, other people say “Oh, I’m glad you said that, I was thinking that as well.” So why didn’t they say so? Because of peer pressure. Nobody wants to be seen as the killjoy, the party-pooper.

I think this is especially relevant in the scene when you have the thorny problem of knowing a lot of people and although you like everyone, you don’t always want to play with everyone. Quite a few times when I was getting into the scene, I said yes to play not because I really wanted to or because I fancied the person but because I knew they wanted to and I didn’t have the heart to say no. I still have this problem – there are some male doms who are very nice people but I just don’t really fancy playing with them. Luckily I’m now past the bounteous stage in my life where lots of people want to play with me, so I have to deal with it less these days!

Anyway, at least now I know my own mind. That I play with people because I want to. Not because I feel obliged to, because it might hurt someone’s feelings, because another of my female friends want me to. It has to be what I want as well. And I’m going to hold that thought, no matter what might be said about me behind my back. Because I’m doing what’s right for me. Full stop.

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*I never even took that up!

When you are big and old like me, you sometimes forget what it was like when you were ten and unashamedly enjoyed romping – pillowfights, mock-wrestling, tickling etc.

So when Jessica, Rebecca and Scarlett were put in the same bed last week to hear their bedtime story, read by Uncle James and Cousin Sebastian, much hilarity ensued. Jessica was teased for not having any pyjamas, especially by Rebecca who looked very fetching in her new blue ones. Jessica defended herself by saying she couldn’t afford nightclothes and always slept naked like Marilyn Monroe. Whilst the story was going on, there was much sneaky tickling and pinching instead of dutifully listening to the tales of Hop, Skip and Jump, the brownie heroes of ‘Brownie Tales’ by Enid Blyton.

This led inevitably to Uncle James and Cousins Sebastian deciding that the three naughty girls, much like the three naughty brownies, needed a jolly good spanking before they went to sleep. The duvet was pulled back, pyjama bottoms in two cases were lowered to ankles (Jessica only had to turn over, much to her blushes) and all three were thoroughly spanked twice over by both grown-ups. My, what a set of blushing cheeks that led to.

Until, very oddly, the girls decided* to spank Uncle James as well. Cue a glorious romp, where the three attempted to pin down Uncle James – hampered by Rebecca’s ankles being held by Cousin Sebastian and Jessica trying to help whilst covering her modesty with a pillow held to her front!** In the end the gentlemen prevailed, despite Scarlett spraying Uncle James with fly spray and Rebecca kicking Sebastian in the groin. So all the girls had to be spanked again, naturally.

Going to sleep with a glowing bottom is probably the nicest things ever!

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*Probably encouraged by the vast amounts of wine they’d all shipped on board!
**Jessica is aware that modesty is not always something she displays, but in this case, she felt modest.

We talk about who we need to plan weekends with, what play events we’d like to organise for the new year, what we’ll do for Jessica’s birthday in February. We talk about Lowewood Academy days, reformatories, house parties and other plans. We look at diaries, do dates, work out what weekends we have already committed to things on.

I love this process. One of my favourite things is planning and having BDSM events for friends, whether they are for three, four, six or more people. I love working out what we will do, planning who we might invite, seeing if people are available, anticipating and doing the preparation work.

HWMBO always has a bit of a moan that I’m a social butterfly. But I love it. Because for me, playing is who I am, it is something I really enjoy. One of the reasons I got into doing BDSM events in the first place was because there never seemed to be anything on the scene that was quite my cup of tea – so my solution was to organise my own! The first few were hard but now, if not exactly easy, they have a rhythm of their own, a swing and I love to strive to make each event special. But most of all, I like doing things with other people. I’m hospitable. It’s just me.

It doesn’t always go as well as it should. Mix is important – however hard you try, you sometimes invite the wrong people, who don’t fit, who have their own firm ideas of how things should go and who are only there to pleasure themselves – they don’t care about the group as a whole. Organisation sometimes isn’t enough – like when we went to the house party this year and found out that the whole village was without water due to a burst water main and we had a nail-biting wait to see if it would be restored in time for the party! And when you play with girls, you have the endless issue of hormones* – someone, somewhere is often upset about something**, somebody didn’t notice her, somebody said something slightly amiss and she took it the wrong way, she’s having her period, she feels fat, somebody is really annoying her, why is another someone getting all the attention, it’s just not fair!

(Men, by the way, are rarely like this. Do they secretly cry whilst in the toilet?)

But overall it’s worth it. Because I love it. Here’s to many more kinky days in 2010!

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*This is a catch all term for ‘women’s moods’, which are generally utterly inexplicable.
**I’m not absolving myself of this, I’ve had the odd spectacular temper tantrum!

We had eight dances in total, which I, dressed for the evening as a chap* called for everyone and as the couples whirled around the floor, I did, several times, feel like I’d been transported back time to 1809.

When I first introduced traditional Regency dancing to our annual house parties, I have to admit I felt some trepidation. It’s been one of my hobbies for years, encouraged by watching loads of BBC costume dramas but I wasn’t sure how the kink crew would take to it. Initially, there was a little resistance from the men of my acquaintance, no doubt fuelled by the fear of looking silly. Luckily, the girls were up for it and they persuaded the chaps to take a chance. And after a brief introduction to the basics, we were away.

Once you’ve waltzed a lady around a ballroom or gazed into her eyes as you both walk down a set and she blushes and looks away, you realise how very erotic the act of dancing is. How closely it’s tied in to the act of dominance and submission. In Regency dancing (and in fact in most period dancing), the gentleman makes the initial move, offering his hand to the lady. The lady responds. The man moves first, the lady follows. In waltzing, the man leads and the lady must allow him to move her backwards, unable to see where she is going and she must trust him to guide her correctly and not steer her into another couple or the wall or the fireplace.

It’s only comparatively recently that formal dancing (as oppose to the general free-form bumping and grinding that we do in clubs) has stopped being something that every man and woman learnt. In fact, there has been a resurgence of interest in ballroom dancing and in period dancing in the past few years. I wonder why? Dare I say it’s because ladies quite like being led occasionally, when we’re not holding down demanding jobs and generally being superwomen?

Often, when I’ve danced with He who Must Be Obeyed at public balls, I’ve felt a massive frisson of sexual tension as we catch each other’s gazes and our thoughts swing ahead to what will happen later in the evening, when he stops being a gentleman on the dancefloor and becomes a cad in the bedroom…

Ah, the memories….

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*No laughing at the back, we were one man short and I can dance both ways

1.    I will lose weight. First and foremost, this is my number one goal. Because when I’m thinner, I get more play. Sad but true.
2.    Related to the above, I will play more in 2010. Although I have had some fabulous plays this year, there has been a distinct shortage of good male doms about, and even smaller number of whom actually wants to play with me on an individual basis. So I need to reassess my pulling strategy!
3.    I will try to be nicer. I say this every year and every year I am astonished by what a bitch I can be when bad feelings like rage or jealously take over. To try and harness these emotions into a more positive response is a key life goal.
4.    I will try not to get easily irritated by small things. I have a reputation for speaking my mind and being honest about what I think. But whilst being blunt is good, being short-tempered is not.
5.    I will stop measuring my self-worth by what other people think of me and do with me. It’s what I think is important, not what anybody else does.
6.    I will remember birthdays.
7.    I will have at least five orgasms a week, minimum.
8.    I will try to do something worthwhile for myself that is non-kink related. I’m not arrogant enough to bang on about wanting to save the world or always assume I am amazing at everything, but I’d like to do something for me that will make me feel good about myself.
9.    I will try to provide more wise counsel. I don’t think I always get it right when my friends bring their problems to me.
10.    I will appreciate things more. It’s the small things that matter!

The Kinky Rights Award
This has to go to Max Mosley who took on the News of the World when they invaded his privacy over a private BDSM session and won. At the same time his victory has made it much more difficult for prurient papers to use deception to invade kinky play sessions (group or otherwise) and justify it as being in the public interest. But as is frequently said, the public interest is not always what the public is interested in – and vice versa. Why should our sex lives be used to sell newspapers to Home Counties prudes?

Best Individual Play of the Year
This was a close run thing – but my session with Herr Sechs, the East German Stasi Officer who waylaid me in a hotel in East Berlin and made me betray Queen and Country waltzes off with the prize. Well done to The Lover whose use of pliers and German had me begging for mercy in very short order and who also showed that you don’t have to beat the crap out of someone to indulge in amazing BDSM play. Mental erotic torment at its best!

The Prude of the Year Award
Joint winners here are Harriet Harperson, sorry Harmen, Jessica’s personal bête-noire in her attempts to prove what a good liberal she is by being as authoritarian as possible. Classics this year have included saying that all leadership teams should be 50% women and that men shouldn’t have sex with a girl who has had a drink in case she can’t handle her drink and might consent accidentally to anal sex (I paraphrase slightly here). The other winner is Martin Salter, MP who in his efforts to get ‘extreme pornography’ banned has managed to make photographs of a slightly sore bottom very dodgy territory indeed, much to the despair of spankos everywhere.

Best Group Play of the Year
Much as I enjoyed the House Party in November, my planned kidnap with The Lover, my surprise kidnap and the various Lowewood Academy days, I have to say that my stay in Lord Fawcett’s Institute for Delinquent and Debauched Girls in February sticks in my mind if only for the sheer inventiveness in the myriad amount of painful humiliations that a group of sadistic doms can inflict on you. Domming at its best – and He Who Must Be Obeyed on top form to make it a weekend to remember!

Commentator of the Year.
Two joint winners – Paul for his loyalty and Indy for amusing me. Thanks guys!

The ‘God I Miss You’ Award.
This one falls into two categories. I really miss Lowewood Academy and how much I enjoyed writing for it. And on a more personal note, the lovely Richard Farthingdale decided to give up the scene this year and spend more time with his girlfriend – and my play is all the poorer for it. A much missed friend.

The ‘New People’ Award
As some people drop out, other people join in and I’ve enjoyed meeting and playing with this year, in no particular order – Eliane, Scarlett, Emma-Jane, Graham and Caroline. All girls. Hmmmm. Can I meet some men in 2010?

The ‘Words from the Wise’ Award
Join honours again – to LittleNic for listening to me this year in several times of crisis, including my whingy post last week – and always providing red wine – and to The Cardinal who gives me unflinching, occasionally unwelcome but always truthful takes on life, the scene and everything. When you lose your temper, feel sad or need help, you can always turn to these two!

British Fetish Club of the Year
Other clubs come and go and coolness changes – there’s always a hot new kid on the block – but for sheer staying power, the old lady of Western Avenue, Sweet Torments, still can’t be beaten. They have the nicest staff, the cheapest drinks and lots of chairs. Who needs the London cool kids?

Shag of the Year
This has been a year of excellent sex, however my unexpected double threesome (with The Lover and Scarlett, swiftly followed by HWMBO and Scarlett) at the House Party is certainly the most adventurous. It was all the more fun for being totally spontaneous. More please!

Orgasm of the Year
This is also a clear winner – it was my first orgasm at our February reformatory after The Lover (ironically not present at the reformatory) forbade me from coming for ten days previously, thus inadvertently leading to the build up of such a head of steam that my resulting scream of pleasure was surely heard in every home in a twenty mile radius. Well done to Rebecca for being the person that induced it!

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*Although I am confused. Surely the end of 2010 is the end of the decade?

Half the people at this particular party were quite CP orientated and the other half more BDSM. Now I’ve talked about this divide before and I have said frequently that as I straddle both areas very comfortably (although CP is my favourite activity, I like lots of BDSM ones as well), I am never fazed by it.

What does faze me though is the difference between people who are into roleplay and those who aren’t. At the dinner party, one of the girls present was one of those people who really doesn‘t understand the point of roleplay and is actually quite scornful of it. Several times during the night, a roleplay event was mentioned briefly and each time her lip curled.

I’ve met this attitude before in the scene. I was reminded of having a drink with a potential playmate this year who made it clear to me that whilst he was happy to indulge in a little roleplay whilst I got to know him, once I trusted him he would expect me to do ‘proper’ BDSM and not hide behind silly roles and costumes. Naturally, we didn’t make it beyond the drink and chat stage although he still sends me aggressive emails saying that I’m missing out by not playing with him.

I find this attitude totally strange and really quite insulting. Good roleplay, the kind that blows your mind, actually requires lots more effort than ‘straight’ BDSM because not only is the Dom playing with you physically, but at the same time he/she has to maintain a mental role which is not only dominant but often that of a different person. He has to create a believable role that the submissive can relax into and find his/her own role. The whole process of roleplay is fascinatingly symbiotic and the mental agility and sophistication it takes can be scary, difficult and challenging – but when you get it right is incredibly worthwhile.

I know from my own experience that for a big roleplay event I put months and months or preparation work into it. HWMBO and The Lover work really hard on their own personal plays, often doing lots of preparation work, costume gathering, oh all kinds of things. So when people who have actually never done anything like that – and let’s be honest lack the imagination and the brains to actually do so – come out with opinions that are not only wrong but insulting, it can be a bit much.

Still, I never think it’s worth getting irate about. After all, it’s not me that’s missing out, is it!

First of all, I am far too well-endowed in the chest department for it to be a possibility, unless I was in a Shakespearian play which required me to dress up as a man and for the other characters to amusingly not see what’s staring them in the face. Or at least staring at them at chest-level.

I also have blonde hair that drops to my waist and always wax my legs.

However, needs must as they say and at the end of December HWMBO and I are hosting a birthday Regency Ball for two of our lovely friends who have their birthdays on consecutive days. However, we ended up with more girls than chaps and this means that once more dear friends, I must step into the breech (ha ha) and will be dancing on the ‘improper’ side of the ballroom, i.e. on the chaps side. Step forward therefore Emrys ap Gwylim, The Earl of Brokenby, heir to an awful lot of sheep and land miles from anywhere in Pennal, Mid-Wales.

I’m actually quite excited about being a chap although HWMBO spoilt my fantasies of having a big twirly moustache by pointing out that my collar had to match my cuffs and given that the hair on my head is golden blonde, so would the moustache have to be. Somehow, blonde moustaches don’t have quite the whiff of danger that black ones do. I also realised that as I have a bigger bottom than HWMBO, who is one of these lithe and compact men, that I’m not going to fit into any of his breeches or shirts (that’s my chest again!). But I’m borrowing his riding boots and someone else’s jodphurs and my school shirt will do. I can put my hair in a ponytail with a black ribbon, because men wore their hair long, especially in out of the way places like Wales.

So on the outside, I will look as manly as manly can be*. However, then HWMBO** asked me if I was going to pack.

Jessica: “Pack what?”

HWMBO: “You know, pack. As in, have a bulge.”

Jessica: “Where?”

HWMBO: (chuckling)“In your, ahem, manly parts.”

Jessica: (suspicious) “Are you suggesting I wear a strap-on to dance?”

HWMBO: (dying of laughter) “No, you might damage yourself. Men don’t dance with erections. I meant socks!”

Jessica: (outraged) “I’m not putting socks down my jodhpurs! What if they slip? I’ll have to keep adjusting my parts.”

HWMBO: (now hysterical with giggles) “Well blokes do that all the time! Now you know why!”

I don’t think I’d like to be a bloke.

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*Adopts gruff voice
**Amused by his transvestite wife