Right then. ‘Time’s winged chariot’ definitely says that I am now 61 and I’m not prepared to call it a liar. And yet, and yet!
I am fairly sure that I am, in reality, still somewhere between 17 and 25 and that it’s all been a horrible mistake. Most of the time this is just a vague feeling that floats around in my mind, but, every so often, it comes to the fore.
Take three weeks ago. I am lucky enough to have close friends from University of Embra days who we go away with at least once a year. No changes in personnel. All still married to the same people and all still friends. Been doing it for 30 years now. Rules are a castle, a river, a cathedral and approximate equidistance between the Great Wen and Embra. First one was in York and we go back there every 10 years.
York again this year, courtesy of Mrs M, the designated organiser this time. Kids have all flown nests and most of us have retired. So, a full complement of the 27 of us (Wee Jim never got married). In the old days, we used to take over an hotel and go wildish. These days, we prefer a wee bit comfort and tranquillity.
Thus it was that we were booked into a Best Western hotel near the Monk Bar. All prepared for a staid and respectable, if far from sober weekend when I saw this sign in the bathroom:-
It’s 1 am on a Saturday morning. The swine have shut the bar on us, even although we are residents. I know that most of the hotel is occupied by WI members and spouses who are having some sort of conference that weekend. This was clearly an opportunity that might never come again. I check our toiletry supplies and there is nary an aerosol to be had. I blame my wife for being a bit green but it’s probably just as well.
Every so often that weekend I toyed with the idea of nipping into Boots to buy an aerosol of some sort, just to see what would have happened. In the end, I failed the Lady MacBeth test by ‘Letting “I dare not” wait upon “I would” ‘.
So, maybe I am 61 after all. It’s a worry.