The idea for ‘No Sex, No City’ originally came from the source of most of my good ideas, my mother. As a true Cumbrian, I have always called her Mam but due to her relentless efforts to find a son-in-law, the name Wing Mam seems more fitting. I would remember this name if I were you, I feel it may crop up quite frequently as this blog continues.
Before I had even moved back to Cumbria, Wing Mam got to work. Whilst on a night out in Sydney I received a photo of an absolute hunk of a man, leaning over a desk and grinning from ear to ear. The unusual part of the picture was that he was proudly holding up the latest Samsung phone: box, instructions and all! I immediately messaged Wing Mam back asking who her new found toy boy was. I got the response ‘This is *Will. He works at the Carphone Warehouse. He’s downloading my apps for me. He thinks you look very nice too’.
There seemed to be a dual motive at play here. Wing Mam had seen the opportunity to marry off a daughter and learn how to work her phone simultaneously and was seizing it with both hands. Wing Mam is not a woman to do things by halves… when I asked her which picture of me she had been showing *Will, she replied, ‘That one of you on the beach in a bikini’. Poor *Will had clearly gone to work that day expecting a quiet shift in the office, only to be harangued by the modern day Mrs Bennet, thrusting pictures of her half naked daughter in his direction. (Funny, by the way, that she had miraculously remembered how to use her phone well enough to find the picture)
The incident was soon forgotten as I bade farewell to my Australian friends and tried to work out how to squeeze my Sydney life into Etihad’s very stingy baggage allowance. Having settled back into rural and rather chilly living I eventually decided the time had come to join the gym. Although more expensive, I was contemplating treating myself and joining Bannatynes. Never one for extravagances, I couldn’t understand why Wing Mam was so keen on this plan. Once the contract had been signed all became clear. I was about to head off to the gym as a newly paid-up member when Wing Mam appeared: ‘Oh, Bannatynes, that’s right opposite the Carphone Warehouse isn’t it? Your father’s phone isn’t working. Would you mind popping in and seeing if they can sort it?’. Subtle, Wing Mam, real subtle!
I entered the shop and immediately saw a face I recognised, just as hunky in real life as he was on the small screen. I was uncomfortably aware that the only prior knowledge this highly attractive stranger had of me was in an outfit I would prefer only witnessed by my nearest and dearest. I wandered up to the counter, trying to say as nonchalantly as possible, ‘Hi, I’m here about my dad’s phone. I think my mum brought it in a few weeks ago’. *Will immediately went absolutely beetroot, clearly remembering his awkward photo shoot and having to make appreciative yet professional noises about the scantly clad photos he had been subjected to.
Apparently the phone was a lost cause and as the awkward small talk continued it became clear that this romance was too. Despite Wing Mam’s best efforts, I am not sure that parentally initiated photographic exchanges are the best way to find love. I was admittedly disappointed, however, when I returned to the Carphone Warehouse a few weeks later to see surly-faced *Carol behind the counter. His run-in with Wing Mam and her desperate offspring had clearly scared *Will off. Maybe Wing Mam will prove more of a hindrance than help as my hunt for Cumbrian Bae continues…