Where There's Smoke...

I breathed in at the wrong moment, got a lung-full of her cigarette smoke and coughed like a bastard for the next five minutes.

She glanced over at me, her concern successfully camouflaged behind an expression of irritation.

Don't know what she's worried about; if I popped my clogs, she'd easily fill my place with someone else. In fact they would be queuing up outside her door – most of them knew she was quite able and more than willing in the bedroom.

But she smoked like a chimney, so when we smooched it was like kissing an ashtray. That was the main reason over the years I'd slowly persuaded her to do more doggy-style.

 Whoops, there I go again, thinking about sex.

Now I have to concentrate real hard to suppress the stirrings, as the pair of white-coated staff members approach to help me wheel Josephine back through the double doors and into the Fairfield Retirement Home.