My heart (which I gave to Emma Jane decades ago) has been misbehaving for a couple of weeks. Although it often misses a beat metaphorically when Emma whispers some sweet obscenity in my ear on the bus to Wrexham, it is now doing so literally for long periods during the day. It misses every fourth beat to be precise - a regular rhythm in itself, but not the one Nature intended. Consequently, I had electrodes glued to my chest yesterday, and am to wear my own personal heart monitor twenty-four hours a day for seven days. I must also keep a diary to record my activities. Emma insists that I will remain celibate for the week. She says this is in case my Maker calls me to His bosom while we are having sex and she gets the blame. Charming! We will see how long she can hold out. In the meantime, if my sexual frustration proves more than I can bear, I will just have to take myself in hand. Imagine the scenario:xxxMonitor: beep, beep, beep (pause); beep, beep. beep (pause) ….
xxxDiary: 4.30 pm. Having a wa…….
xxxMonitor: beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee …
