Van Morrison

I went to see Van Morrison on Saturday night with knitting friends. I took one of those very low ( i.e about 4" from the ground) camping chairs. The security guard told me I could not bring it in. I told him I had gynecological problems (not true) and therefore needed a chair. This failed to move him and he still said no. I then told him I had had an operation in my vagina. As soon as I said the word vagina he looked terrified and let me in chair and all.
Why oh why are men so scared of the word vagina?
Heterosexuals are rather keen on putting vulnerable pieces of their anatomy in them and they will use the somewhat vulgar aggressive slang for vagina all the time. Yet the word seems to terrify them-I find this bizarre.
The concert was great and we of course had the most fabulous picnic between us. One group adjacent to us had a wide range of alcohol, loads of fags (outdoor picnic concerts seem to be some sort of smokers liberation meeting) and one of those packets of pistachio nuts available at all good off licences. We took pity and offered them some hand made ginger nuts, reaching out across the social divide.
I also love going to the loo at these things-the cues take forever and you get to bond with total strangers and get their life stories. Maybe the fact that boys miss out on loo cue bonding somehow result in vagina terror-interesting thought.