News just in, “The Bilderberg Group” are in town, my town, and not only are they in town they are all at the hotel next door to where I live. The police came and did the rounds taking car registration numbers and names of residents etc. to allow us access into our own estate.
After doing a quick google search to find out who and what they are about, I have a feeling it could be a pain but the excitement buzzing around my normally very quiet estate is quite electrifying.
And So My Day Begins…
8am and the usual routine, hubby takes the kids to the school bus and then goes to work. I take my two dogs for a walk through the forest in my pyjamas as I do every morning. My PJ’s consisting of short shorts and a little shirt. No one is ever around these parts and I very rarely come across anyone so I am safe in my bedroom attire and flip flops.
I let the dogs off the lead and they disappeared into the forest foraging for some new animal smells and scents. As I turned the corner into the trees a huge helicopter appeared from nowhere right above me. It was so close it was causing all the dry dirt to stir up and fly around. I gazed up trying to shield my eyes from the flying dust to see what I could only describe as a huge black bin hanging from underneath it.
I later found out that this is a camera and not a gun as I had initially thought. Panic rose in my chest, I really thought this thing was going to start shooting at me. I had an inkling to run into the trees and hide but then on second thoughts it could make me look guilty and give them reason to shoot.
I called the dogs, put them on leads and did a quick turn around and retreated from the woods towards home, adrenalin surging through my veins like a 12 pack of red bull. As I turned the corner I saw 5 shadowy images coming toward me in the haze of the dust. I’m not sure if this was a dream and I’m still lying in bed or if I have somehow found myself in an episode of 24 and Jack Bauer will jump out any second and run to my rescue.
I stood still taking in the approaching image, through the dust five rather fit men in black uniform wielding machine guns were making a direct beeline for me. The dogs started barking not happy at the imminent arrival of men bearing HUGE guns. I brushed away images of being frisked against the rough bark of a tree from my mind, what is wrong with me?
What The SWAT
“Quien eres? Who are you?” one of the (what looked like a) SWAT team snapped at me and not in the politest of tones. “My name is Gillian and I live here,” I stuttered in my best Spanish, trying to bat my lashes but almost blinding myself with all the dust billowing around us.
I was immediately aware of being in my pyjamas and feeling somewhat bashful I tugged at the shorts trying to cover my practically bare bottom. They were very intimidating, the dogs were going mad and I was on the verge of a panic attack. What the hell is going on here?
This may sound strange but I had two lines of a Queen song running around in my head. “Is this real life or is this fantasy?” Told you it would sound strange but I’m guessing this encounter will be stoking my fantasies for many months to come.
“Documents”, a rather handsome, dark skinned, dark eyed young fella of no more than 30 barked at me holding out his hand. He looked so fine in his beret and black uniform tucked into army boots, for a moment my mind started to wander at the possibilities of being in the forest alone with these men.
I snapped myself from my daydream and held my hands out in a gesture of emptiness. I don’t walk my dogs in the woods in my pyjamas with my identity documents. For starters where would I possibly carry them, considering apart from a tiny T-shirt and the shortest of shorts, I am practically naked. “No tengo” again I stammered in my best Spanish.
After explaining that I live here and had no ID on me at that moment, one of the hunky SWAT team accompanied me all the way home to check I was not intending on gatecrashing the Bilderberg convention, which had apparently started this day, and that I did live where I said I did. This young man was called Carlos and he very kindly filled me in on what I could and could not do over the next week whilst the Bilderberg group were hanging out next door.
All the while he was talking I was constantly aware of my boobs jiggling away beneath my flimsy cotton T-shirt and my nipples were definitely giving away my dirty thoughts about Carlos & Co.
Finally, back in the house with the door firmly closed I inspected my dusty attire and appearance in the mirror. Arrgghhh!! Mortified, is this what I looked like when 5 hot men in uniform descended on me? My hair looked a dusty brown mess, my eyes red and watery due to the dirt and my face streaked with dark brown dust, but my boobs, they looked great.
Up until today, what had just happened was only something I had ever dreamt about and now my daily dog walks would never be the same. First call, hairdresser, I needed these grey roots covering considering these young men were a good 20 years my junior and I was out to impress. I booked myself in for a manicure, pedicure, a full body exfoliation, a leg wax and a blow dry… I said blow dry!!
Million Dollar Cougar Now On The Loose
Feeling like a million dollars and happy with my now brand new, shiny appearance I headed home. My happy state of mind was soon quashed when I am refused entrance into my own estate. “No puedes entrar, you can’t come in'” was being shouted at me across the street from a not so hot policeman behind the barrier blocking access to my home.
What??? Hang on a minute, the allure of all these men in uniform was rapidly losing its sexy appeal, they won’t let me in. I pulled over and got out of the car, unrecognisable as the girl in the forest in Pjs, I was now a sleek, sexy cougar and not a happy one, this could get messy.
“Perdon”, I shouted to the mouthy older guy who was telling me from a distance I can’t come in. “I live here, could you let me in?” I managed in my Spanglish. I stood with one manicured hand firmly on my hip whilst my newly coiffured hair blew around me in a shiny mane.
“Perdon”, I shouted again after being blatantly ignored the first time. “Get back in your vehicle and wait there” he snapped back pointing at my car. Grrrrr! I hated this guy!
I had to sit and sulk for 52 minutes exactly before I was finally allowed to go through. I cannot believe that my new shiny and gorgeous exterior is failing to impress anyone here. They must’ve all been gay, yes that’s it, after all I do live in the gay capital of the Mediterranean.
I am not happy now and having got past the first block barrier there is a second and once again I’m told I’m not welcome. Right, now these Bilderbergers are starting to really irritate me, who the hell are they anyway?
My sleek hair, shimmering lips and long lashes were not having the desired effect, I felt like a bit of a failure on the womanly stakes here. Not only was no one taking any notice of me (after spending a small fortune on my appearance) but they wouldn’t let me go home either. After what seemed like an eternity of document checking I am finally allowed in almost 1 hour and 20 minutes later. Ridiculous right?
Apparently the last page of the fax sent by our own security to the police with my details on hadn’t gone through so I was not listed as being a resident. Little did I know that this meant that for the whole week I would be denied access to my home.
As I drove around the estate to my house I saw various vans and numerous armed police officers in that black long sleeved, long trousered uniform in 40 degrees heat. Suddenly I felt a little empathy, after all it wasn’t these guys who shut me out. I drove home, went straight into the garage and filled an ice cooler with cold soft drinks and water and threw in a couple of ice creams for good measure. I quickly checked my hair, re-applied some lipgloss and slipped into my red “fake” Louboutins.
Jumping back into the car I made another round offering cold drinks to these poor fellas melting in the dry heat of the afternoon sun. I was beginning to like being the good Samaritan and they were all so appreciative. I was also getting some rather admiring glances here at last and I was feeling sexy again. Juan, Jose, Marco, Carlos, Diego, Sebastian, Xavi they all gave me their names but no phone numbers.
Damn! The week ahead was beginning to look promising once more I thought, as I caught myself smiling salaciously in the rear view mirror as I headed towards my next hot stop.
Anyway time to go and get dolled up and walk the dogs up to the forest again, I know fifteen or so armed officers are up there so I shall tuck my ID into my bra, just incase I get frisked this time, a girl can but dream.
What happened next my friends is another diary entry.
I hasten to add that this story is true in its entirety. I can’t send all five diary entries at once so look out for the next instalments from this Desperate Housewife.
By Gillian ~ Desperate Housewife España