Compartmentalised Existence –

Another truly extraordinary tale of secret life sex from bestselling author, illness Emilia Blythe (‘A Mother’s Sacrifice’, viagra sale ‘Date my Mom’) , health of a middle-aged woman, having to suddenly deal, single-handedly with her daunting (and varied) family responsibilities whilst somehow creating, and relishing a fulfilling, exciting sex life as well: and all without one affecting the other!
Kerry is told from an early age that her life will be structured, and take a specific form, one stage leading seamlessly to the next. She is never prepared or warned however about unexpected events, or tragic loss, or how to deal with her young and older dependants, the pressure that awful reality can create and bring. Even her own sexuality, when the man she loves has been cruelly, unexpectedly taken and she is left alone is a change she is ill-equipped for. She then has to contend with so many conflicting demands to keep everything together for the people she loves the most, and cope with a hundred different demands, stresses and obligations, whilst still trying to have the personal and sexual life that her mind and body still demands. She has to fashion the compartmentalised existence that she craves to keep her sane, alive and the vibrant, vital woman that she has always been.
15517963_lMany women will understand the essence of the book just from the title, but for the uninformed or uninitiated in the ways of inbred, inherent, female dependability, thought and complexity, then read on and be aroused, educated, moved and amazed.


I remember the conversation I had with my wonderful grandmother as if it was yesterday, even though I was no more than 9 years old at the time.

I was sitting beside her on our old, tattered, blue cloth covered settee; the faded colour of our supple, comfortable seat matched her pale eyes that seemed to have lost a little sparkle from what I remembered the years before.

She took my young, plump, white hands in her bony, gnarled fingers and I noticed how many unwelcome brown spots and thick blue veins adorned, pressed or covered her faded, wrinkled skin.

My Grandmother loved and adored me; I had always known, felt and understood this obvious truth and the fact that she had made this special, personal, private effort to speak to me, made me feel extremely important, privileged and grown up.

She stroked my tangled, dark brown hair and I noticed, as if for the very first time how her shiny globes were so similar to my own; they were slate grey with just a translucent hint of shining, dazzling blue.

Even though I knew she was getting older, invariably she was always full of energy; I had always thought her to be indestructible, never wrong about anything and I could still hear her words she spoke to me that day.

“You are so lovely, Kerry…so gorgeous…”

She whispered with just a faint trace of a musical lilt that I knew had come from our family roots in Killarney, Ireland, before my ancestors escaped the poverty of that fabled land for a new life in England.

“…As you are so grown up now, Sweetheart I am going to tell you a little secret that my own grandmother revealed to me when I was your age…it has been good advice for me and…has been for your own mother.”

My innocent face just stared up at her with enlarged, wide eyes and I listened in fascination; I was always concentrated and attentive even from a small child.

She inhaled and drew her breath and I heard her chest rattle a fraction but ignored it as I was ignorant of such inconsequential matters at my naïve age.

“A life consists, Darling Kerry, of 4 huge, massive boxes…and we have our time here on earth to live and explore each one as best we can…”

I was utterly captivated and spellbound by her.

“…The first box is when we are born and have the excitement where everything is so spectacular, sparkling and shiny new. We have no choice almost, but to learn each and every day, and this youthful adventure only finishes when we are just beginning our teenage years and then we have to jump into the new box…”

She laughed and her eyes gleamed again, in delight at my patent interest and astonishment at her incredible tale.

“…This one is full of fantastical things…it is when you begin to grow up, form and have close, intimate friendships and in which you make amazing discoveries… build memories of wild adventures that can fulfil you and last you forever…and then…”

She squeezed my hand extra hard as I held my breath in palpable tension and expectation.

“…The third box is for when you get married and fall in love, have a family and put all of that effort you wasted in the second box to good, purposeful productive use. Your family and children will need you to supply every last trace of oomph you have… as this box, although will give you more than any of the others… “

She chuckled in her private irony and experience.

“…It will… undoubtedly wear you out as well!”

I recalled the only question I asked her.

“What’s in the fourth box, Grandma?”


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