Welcome to the ‘Man-Cave’

barsThe voyage via ferry from The Netherlands to The UK was uneventful to say the least. Feeling abunbdantly sorry for my travelling companion Miss Big-Paws  – I spent most of the time sitting in the ship’s kennel room keeping her company.

Upon arrival at border control we were ushered into the ‘other’ line, where I was met by a cordial 20-someting border guard who proceeded to ask a lengthy series of questions while risking carpal tunnel syndrome by feverishly taking notes as I replied. “Yes I travelled to the Netherlands with my dog, it was easier and less expensive to go ther first. I was there 2 nights, I had dinner with a friend one night – actually a ‘Couchsurfer’ that I hosted at my apartment 2 summers ago. You know that website? Anyway, I was in Rotterdam, then came here. I don’t know how long I will be staying  – ideally 3 months maybe, but my father isn’t well… is this too much information?”

I have not packed drugs in my orifices. I am not illegally defecting from my Canadian homeland despite it’s freezing cold and snows way too f’cking much, and I’d be hard pressed to find decent employment or affordable housing there anyway.
( I didn’t say that, but wanted to.)

 Why all the notes? Was I ‘under suspiscion and considered a threat to The UK’s national security? Does Her Magesty’s Secret Service need to compile a file on me? Will middle aged men dressed incognito a la 007  be coveting my every move? I hope they at least bring martini fixings along, and look like Daniel Craig or a young Sean Connery.


 Shortly after my temporary detainment from border control I was picked up by Sir English and driven the 90 minutes back to his flat. During which time we exchanged pleasantries and got reaquainted.

Upon entry into his small apartment, my eyes widened in disbelief as I had assumed he would be some sort of urban male minimalist. However I was entering another completely opposite form of quintessesntial man-cave adorned with the standard vast quantities of wall-to-wall magazines and books, dvds, testosterone art aka. film posters à la James Bond,  even car parts and anti-freeze under his kitchen table, and fittingly furnished with man-cave furnishings of the IKEA pine variety… but I was not prepared for this LITERAL decor monstrocity…

I feel dirty already.

I feel dirty already.

An item so aesthetically awful and disturbing, it could only make me cringe and feel as though I had been molested if I were to  ever sit in it.  Italy gave me crappy blue Fiats and MacDaddy Gorillas, instead England gives me pervy King Kong severed hands to fondle my ass.

Fortunately Miss Big-Paws immediately frond space, made herself at home, and appeared content enough.


Is good taste subjective?
Ask Big-Paws.

Alas, let’s see how things unfold, shall we?


About Cakes McCain

Aka. 'Oliver Twist with Furniture and Diamonds' Ex-pat, lunatic, survivor - A Bridget Jones/Shirley Valentine hybrid, epically flawed, neurotic literary ‘dirty apple’ with a penchant for broad shoulders, epic orgasms, & lazy Sunday mornings eating cake in bed. Almost always broken-hearted, forever analysing everything to a bloody pulp and eternally obessing over 'Pasta for One - The Manuscript' a chick-lit memoir about living single in fabulous Italy, while trying not to throw yourself in front of a speeding bus.
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9 Responses to Welcome to the ‘Man-Cave’

  1. MJ says:

    The UK customs/border patrol are VERY persnickety. They gave me a very hard time because I didn’t have the address of the place to which I was going. My friend never gave it to me. They behaved like it was some unusual thing and almost didn’t let me in the country. So…you were okay. It’s just them.

  2. SillyG says:

    are you kidding with that chair! the only place i can see that is in a kids playroom. and even then i dont want to see it!

  3. storyofalice says:

    I love the giant groping hand! Let’s hope Sir English is being consciously tacky and not too attached to his possessions… you know what’s missing from that chair? A little engine to give your bum a massage!

    I hope you settled well in the man cave and that Sir English is everything you’d hoped for and more. In the meantime, I have a little surprise for you: The Sensual Blogger Award. Details here:


    Don’t feel obliged to participate, but if you do, I’d be very curious about your answers, especially about the paragraph. Mine was so filthy, had no idea where it came from!! xoxo

    • Cakes McCain says:

      Your paragaph was fantastic!
      I have such trouble with fiction! Speaking of trouble… must tread lightly as there is a certain someone in the zone that will never let me live down my answers!

  4. Lafemmeroar says:

    Yup … “Bound” was hot and sexy … and for a second it made me think how hot it would be to kiss a chick. Then my noodle returned to reality … but never say never I guess 🙂

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