Author Topic: "Georgia on her mind". ( Or how women don't need a spade to dig ahole)  (Read 3178 times)

Offline pastrami

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The sodium streetlights pierced the thin curtains of the bedroom. Ochre luminosity fell on the face of Phil who was fast asleep.  Lying beside him, Carol felt envious. Sleep would not come to her.

Thoughts twirled around her head like a sky diver in difficulty. Carol put her insomnia down to making herself a pig with the curry, chapattis  and wine they had consumed that evening.

Facing Phil, Carol felt his breath on her face, the warm loving feeling she felt led her to trace a finger down his straight nose.  She touched his soft lips and he hunched his nose - but slept on.
Disappointed he did not stir. Carol’s yearning to be close to him, to hold him – overpowered her.

As if he heard her need, he mumbled a number of incoherent words.

Carol wondered is she could talk to him and delve into his subconscious. Her confidence, never her strong point and Phil’s reticence to declare his affection led her to  gently blow into his face thinking this may get an answer she needed.
“Phil, what are you dreaming about?”
He did not reply.
Carol scrunched up her nose and with a feint smile on her lips asked,
” Phil - do you love me?”
Pulling away with a questioning look on her face so that she could watch his reaction. She hoped for an answer.

With his eyes closed and his soft baritone voice, he breathed one word,” Georgia.”

In the subdued light she was certain a slight smile drifted across his mouth.
She asked.” Who’s Georgia?”
Other than a sigh, Phil did not answer.
He slept on.

She wondered if would help with a slight poke in the shoulder.
She jabbed him.
Unfortunately she used the one with the long fingernail.
 “Who’s Georgia?” She asked again with a voice that had lost some of the soft charms of a loving wife and moved towards the voice of a Miss Piggy annoyed by Kermit.
His silence irritated Carol and gave a frustrated sigh. As she lifted herself up to lean against the headboard she tugged at the bedclothes pulling Phil with a jerk, but he did not stir.

Carol rubbed her nose and her thoughts turned to, what if Phil had an affair, possibly to a Georgia?
Her rich imagination was a godsend in the Ad Agency where she worked, but running untamed at three in the morning made sleep was impossible. Her need to know gene was also on station alert. She needed to talk, to find out, now!

She pushed Phil hard on the shoulder again.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
“Wake up Phil.”
The mattress bounced as Phil turned away from her and pulled the covers up to his neck.
“Phil, I need to ask you something.”
“Go away.” He mumbled.
“Phil it’s important.”

Carol was now pleased he was awake and could respond to her. He turned onto his back and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

 “Are we being burgled or something?” He mumbled.
“No, but I can’t sleep, and I need to ask you something.”
“Please can’t it wait till morning Cas?”
“Do you know a Georgia?”
“Georgia who?”
“I don’t know her second name. Just a Georgia.”
 “No I don’t know a Georgia. Why, should I?”
“You said her name in your sleep.”
“Well, I wondered who she was, and then I thought what would happen if you had and affair.”
“What with Georgia?”
“Yes, –  well no. It could be anyone.”
“I’ll give you my word Carol if you let me go back to sleep, I  promise that if I have an affair, I would avoid a Georgia – OK. Now can I go back to sleep – please?”

“You pig. So you would have an affair then?”
“But only with someone not named Georgia.”
She slapped him across the shoulder with her hand that had a large ring Phil. A Christmas present form Phil.
“Shit, that hurt Carol. Why did you do that?”
“Cos you’d have an affair.”

Carol moved away from Phil who was rubbing his arm and complained of pins and needles in his hand.
“Look, you’re annoying me Carol. I love you dearly but you’ve woken me up at two in the morning with questions and punched me due to some affair I’m not having. It’s not on! Leave me alone to get some sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t go to sleep. I’m worried about this Georgia.”

She noticed Phil’s had lost its smooth baritone voice and bordered on an angered contralto.

“ Look she doesn’t exist. It may have been a dream. I don’t know a Georgia.” Phil pleaded.
“But perhaps you’ve not met her yet. Perhaps her name might be similar. Like Gina or Georgina. Or it could be just plain old George.”
Phil kept quiet.

Suddenly Carol thoughts went out of the box.
“ George could be a man.”
Carol felt a violent tug of the bedclothes as Phil pulled them over his head. She tugged back as he a muffled voice came form Phil.
 “Go to sleep Carol. If you don’t, I will have an affair, and if you carry on, it will be a gay one, cos I feel I’m going off women fast ”.

Carol felt the familiar flush, she knew so well, when frustration and deep regret descended on her. Tears followed but she managed to muffle her sob.
She hated herself, being on bad terms with Phil, but saying sorry was not one of her marriage vows. Love and honour yes, but saying sorry - no way.

The best she could manage was to lean over to him and say, “I do love you Phil. But it was on my mind, and it won’t go away. I love you darling.”
 “Look, you wake me to be assured I love you. Well, I do love you, always will, but you can be an infuriating woman at three in the morning. Now please get some sleep.”

Carol flipped the bedclothes back and forth for an hour trying to sleep. One minute cold, then too hot, in her mind she made shopping lists and a mental note to remind Phil about the ceiling. She noted it had started to peel in the corner of the bedroom and needed a bit of glue.

Eventually, she entered the gates of slumber about four in the morning. With one dominate thought on her mind.
What if she were to have an affair? What would Phil do?

She had already thought out his reaction. No doubt he would forgive her. That was typical of him. He would say, ‘Well, these things happen and what’s done is done.’

All that feely forgiveness crap. It could be so infuriating being with a man without a streak of jealousy.
As dawn approached daylight began to slip through the curtains. Sleep finally overcame Carol but with one last thought on her mind.

How would he feel if she had an affair? 

Plus she must not forget about the ceiling. 


Song : “Georgia on my mind.”
Written by Hoagy Carmichael.
Sung by Ray Charles amongst others.
Dirty shoes mean dirty knickers.

pastrami 1960

Offline Jazmin

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Not much to say but--I loved it.

Especially the dialogue.

Thanks for sharing.

The correct usage of an for the removal of greenfly from a rosebush.

Offline cally2

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I really like that. Reminds of when my wife disappearered for nine months and a mad woman slept in her place  ;)
Paul Callaghan.

Why is dyslexia so hard to spell?

Offline ulrichburke

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All I can say is - that is SO true.  Being disabled, I don't get much chance to have anything to do with women (disabled guys don't get girlfriends, sad fact of life) but I DO have a sister.  And if she wants to make a point, she can take any TWO WORDS I say and make a dentist's drill out of them!!

A lovely vignette. 

Yours respectfully


Offline pastrami

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Thanks to you all for the encouraging comments.

I am lucky in that dialogue comes to me from - I don't know where?

Perhaps being married for XX number of years and having three daughter has subconciously rubbed off. ( Not saying my wife or daughters are like the character in the piece. I must make that clear.) But women do say peculiar things at times that thankfully I find amusing.

I love the way women can turn any situation into the fault of their partner. That is amazing dialogue if you can get it right.

Just sit and listen to a group of women talking. It's very instructive.

I wll close now before I go too far and Ma blocks this message.

pastrami  ;D
Dirty shoes mean dirty knickers.

pastrami 1960

Offline cswillson

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I really like that. Reminds of when my wife disappearered for nine months and a mad woman slept in her place  ;)

Only nine months?


Offline cally2

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Well there were three separate occasions when the mad woman came to stay. The scars of those times are teeenagers now and are intent on driving me mad ;D
Paul Callaghan.

Why is dyslexia so hard to spell?