As most regulars here know, I was widowed at the age of 47. Eventually, in my early 50s, I plucked up the courage to go out to 'Singles Nights' ... a brave new venture for someone whose last encounter with a dance floor (as a "free agent") had been nearly three decades earlier.
Not unnaturally, my initial feelings were akin to those of an embarrassed teenager by the time the hotel receptionist led me through to the venue where that particular night's festivities were to take place.
As it happened, my anxiety was soon quelled on being introduced to a couple of divorced guys ... Frank & Gordon who befriended me. And thus began an exciting new chapter in my life.
Anyway, the three of us became almost inseparable most weekends - especially on Sunday evenings - when we would "go clubbing"
to loads of other venues in towns and cities further afield ... usually conveyed by there by Frank, an off-duty taxicab owner.
Now Frank was a chatty bloke
(ask Les ... it's
an "occupational hazard" with taxi drivers
Les, but in
my experience it's true!). Often, the topic of conversation would resort to discussions on men's issues during our journeys. And, on one such occasion, Frank revealed he'd had "the snip". Apparently Gordon had intended having it done also, but "chickened
out" in advance.
Alas Frank died very suddenly of a heart attack - standing upright still clutching the lawnmower while cutting his grass (nothing to do with his vasectomy, I hasten to add!) one Sunday afternoon in the Autumn of 2002 - a month shy of retirement ... though I still keep in touch with Gordon socially for the [very] occasional pub visit.
Originally Posted by Arthur Little
As most regulars here know, I was widowed at the age of 47. Eventually, in my early 50s, I plucked up the courage to go out to 'Singles Nights' ... a brave new venture for someone whose last encounter with a dance floor (as a "free agent") had been nearly three decades earlier.
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