In Anticipation of Lunch

Lady Bumbridge was upstairs in her bedroom, sat at the dressing table mirror and examining her reflection. She was about to meet a Mrs Hammond Eggs for luncheon at the Salon du The and was not feeling particularly enthusiastic at the prospect of being nagged at over a lunch of cucumber sandwiches. Clytemnestra Bumbridge had once been an attractive woman, but now, at 64 she looked more like Quentin Crisp than Dame Helen Mirren.

She sprayed on her favourite perfume, “Eau de Bells”, fingered her pearls and decided on the pink pearl necklace. On her dressing table was a photograph of her husband, Lord Bumbridge, taken 30 years earlier. She liked this image of him, a younger Lord Bumbridge in T-shirt and shorts, touching his toes. He can’t touch his toes now! She thought and giggled cruelly.

She shuffled over to her bedside table, and removed from the bottom drawer, a leather bound book. She sat on the edge of the bed and opened the book at the first page. At the top, written neatly in blue ink, was the title: “In Search of the Female G-spot”. This was Lady Bumbridge’s treatise and it was almost complete.