Hastings in Exile

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While in exile from the ex (the ex has a family member visiting) I decided to visit my long neglected Great Aunts.

They are mighty forces, great old school bawa ladies who’ve been living here since the 1930’s & 40’s when they were nurses and doctors. They have about 80 years of bawa family gossip in store.

It’s pretty good stuff. Apparently my family had a scandalous elopement and some ‘uncle-niece’ incest. All hush-hush. Although according to Kardo and Sadi ‘Uncle-niece’ is not incest. (They are both Muslims. Need I say more? And people say the bawas are inbred. Hah.)

Every time I go to Hastings I seem to lose most of the Saturday in traveling. Last time there was a malfunction at Tonbridge Wells (of all the backwater places – such a London snob aren’t I?) and I was trapped in transit for over 7 hours.

By the time I reached Hastings it was nearly 8 o clock and I was shattered.

This time The Aunts drove down from London and it took 4 hours. So I suppose I’m making progress.

We stopped at a Guju store somewhere near Stratford, where I promptly bought 5 packs of boondi, a box of khandvi, and 2 kulfies that I ate straight away and was promptly car sick all the way back to Hastings.

Those were some pretty good kulfies.

The sun shone brightly all Saturday and Sunday. I went for frequent walks by the parks and the woods around my aunts place to smoke discreetly. Then I lay in the sun in my aunt’s garden. They spoiled me rotten all weekend in really the most atrocious way.

There was some amazing bawa food, (I can’t remember the name) some bhel for dinner and lots of mangoes.

They also insisted on buying my return ticket to london. I love relatives who refuse to acknowledge that you are now a full-grown person. On the way to the main Station my aunt very nearly drove into a Shuttle Bus. He promptly swore at her. She was a bit shaken up, poor thing.

I read a Barbara Cartland yesterday on the way back home from visiting my Great Aunt in Hastings. (I carried 5 with me, just in case  by some awful occurrence I ran out.)

The heroine in the novel is a bitch so she’s kidnapped by a scorned lover, taken to an island, held hostage and raped repeatedly over 10 days.

Then she eventually escapes only to realise that she’s ‘in love’ with her captor.

Barb darling, are you fucking kidding me??

I mean, what the fuck?? Seriously, how the fuck am I supposed to buy into that? THIS IS NOT WHAT I SIGNED UP FOR!!!

She just messed up my brain all day. I mean really.

Rape does not = romance.

I’m quite traumatized now.


2 thoughts on “Hastings in Exile

  1. It was one of the earlier ones, 1920’s or so called Sweet Punishment.

    There are never any graphic descriptions in the Mills and boons ‘heaving bosom and throbbing members’ kind of way, but she didn’t soften the rape scene at all.

    In fact she almost (in her own way) underlined the brutality of it (again this is in the context of other Barbara Cartlands – I’m not talking about anything like that scene in A Time to Kill.)

    The forward said the book had been requested by readers over and over again.

    I don’t know what kind of fucking readers these were.

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