To Kiss or not to Kiss...

When your abroad, you know the problem; to kiss or not to kiss?

Then there's the problem of how many kisses? and which side first?

France complicates things; around Brest one is sufficient, while in Calais and Dunkerque, two is generally the norm, though four is not too uncommon.
In Montpellier & Marseille, the limit is strictly three.

As for Paris, just watch the natives for guidance; no non Parisian quite knows what they get up to.

Italy is easier with kisses tending to be the preserve of friends.
But there is one thing I can say with certainty; don't go 'Moi Moi' as you kiss.


Tonguing is some thing entirely different, and usually the preserve of intimate partners; and Molly!

Molly and I have  known each other for about three years. She has always been an over exuberant character, never anything but beautifully turned out, with the blackest flowing hair, enhanced by woven red ribbons that makes many women jealous.


Yesterday, while saying 'hello,' she French kissed me!

The understatement of the month would be to say I was 'gob smacked.' Literally!

Her mother was aghast at the impertinence. All for about three seconds before her uncomfortable silence was rent asunder by falling into hysterical laughter.

Still 'gob smacked,' I'm afraid I didn't quite see the funny side of things for another couple of seconds after which we laughed until we were breathless.

Molly joined in, of course, barking ecstatically...

What had happened was, I bent down to stroke Molly, just as she jumped up, and her friendly lick turned into an unfortunate French kiss.

One piece of advice should the same happen to anyone reading this; rinse you mouth 'asap' with some very salty water.


The only other time I'd ever encountered an amorous animal was on new years day, when Chris and I were being shown round the Bed and Breakfast's owners smallholding,

'Did you know cows horns are warm?' she asked; adding 'feel them, they're lovely and she like people stroking them.'

It's true, cows horns are warm, and this particular highland cow seemed to enjoy me stroking her horns.

Embarrassingly she seemed to enjoy my attention to the degree that she gave me an appreciative lick that whipped out my top false teeth, which fell with a plop into her cow pen.

Happily both myself and my teeth survived, but that holiday is another story in itself..........


Oh yes; to save people wondering; Molly is a welsh sheep dog. Truly loving and she really is as beautiful as I tried to portray her just now.


By Folks, See you again soon.