Bumbling Dad. Midlife dating tales from London.

If you haven't read Part One, and you're not being deliberately contrary, you should probably  click here .  We'll wait for you to catch up. While the other boys were playing tennis ball football in the playground during both break and lunchtime, I could be found in the library.  I probably still have my "Librarian" enamel badge somewhere.  And there's still nothing you could teach me about the Dewey Decimal System.  My pants are off  right now , girls.  Come at me, in orderly fashion.  Ideally alphabetically, well-thumbed, and with unbroken spines. Strangely, the library wasn't where I encountered any kind of vaginal enlightenment.  Even from the books in the locked cupboard, for which you had to sign for the key.  I wasn't  that  unknowing.  And the decade during which I went from 9 to 19 was the peak of that horticultural phenomenon known as "hedgerow porn."  I was already aware   that naked ladies sported...