Blackberry Juniper

It was as I passed the canal at Little Venice that dark night on my way to the Open University tutorial that I noticed her. She was leaning on the railings looking up into the dark sky and gently howling. I stopped. This was not the lass I had come to know at these 'Mid Victorian Britain' classes. There she had been perceptive and alert, so much so she was constantly being slapped down by the magisterial tutor for getting ahead of herself, or ahead of the rest of us at least! I wondered if the family might be the cause of this worrying incident, possibly he has been reading philosophy books to her again and boring her rigid, or maybe the kid has been throwing bricks through the school windows perhaps? However the truth was much milder and indeed understandable than this. Blackberry Juniper was just howling at the moon as she does during every lunar cycle. As you know women's magazines fill lassies head with the idea that the moon influences their moods. Actually it is not enough vegetables! However high above in the clear, cold, dark sky hung a large bluish moon, strewn with left over NASA debris sending out it's influence over the tides and pretty young girls everywhere. I also have attempted to influence girls and tides in similar fashion from time to time and my only reward has been wet feet and rude girls asking questions about my footwear.
"Are your shoes wet?"
"No, why?"
"There's a big drip standing in them."

Blackberry Juniper (don't ask) has a brain the size of a planet and this is matched with her humility. She forgot to inform me that she received the high scores that led to the BA, and later an MA! I was informed of her BA scores by another. Talent, humility, good looks and personality, what more does a woman need - money that's what! As I write I know the lass is struggling to keep awake and smile at the brain dead creatures who surround her in the dank dungeon her boss refers to as a 'hive of industry.' Leaving the Orcs behind for thirty minutes in the middle of the day BJ can be seen standing with her neck craned, staring up into the sky high above the concrete jungle that is London. All around citizens of this city are seen doing the same, desperately attempting to find daylight in the darkness of the megalopolis in which they are forced to dwell.
Back in the Dickensian world in which her crust is earned, BJ takes advantage of the lull in the slavery to continue writing the novel which, one day, will bring lasting fame and oodles of cash her way. The fear of continually being harassed by the media does not bother her, "I will be in my Island in the West Indies anyway!" As long as the money keeps coming and her servants keep bowing at her feet she will be content. In the meantime in the real world she keeps her man in order, in spite of his natural 'man like' mistakes. The most recent, answering her question honestly!
He was idly flipping through the TV channels looking for something that was not aimed at a four year old cretin when she asked, "What's on the TV?"
"Dust," he replied.
The doctor was required to retrieve the remote control from where she put it!

I just thought it right to mention this lovely woman, a friend of long standing, she has no chairs in the house, and one who has survived many days fraught with trouble and pain. A wise lass, when I suggested she run away from it all and marry me she said this could not happen for 'religious reasons.' I asked"Why?"
"Because you think you are god, and I don't," she replied.

Why can't more women be like Blackberry Juniper?