I Demand a Recount

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.


7 responses to “I Demand a Recount

  1. Oh dear, I think I’m missing something here…

    • Aye weel, Isobel, you could be right. It was meant to be a draft and not public. Give me’world enough and time’ and all may might, possibly, become a wee bit clearer. Or possibly not. Only time will tell.

      Good evening, by the way. Love your haikus. Can’t do them myself, being on the verbose side of the spectrum.

  2. No need for a recount, John, I make it 61.

    Happy birthday,

    Pity Scotland didn’t hang on to the draw and more shameful that the tartan army continually booed the Spaniards and especially Iniesta at corner kicks.

    Having a few McEwan’s at the moment and looking forward to watching the finely balanced 2nd test between India and Australia this morning. Lucky me has the week off. I’ll drink a can for you.

    Many happy returns.


    • JW

      I’m touched, but you knew that anyway.

      61 it is. Thanks very much. Battleships III still on the way.

      Agree about the booing but quite hopeful that we are on the brink of another false dawn of hope that the Scottish football team could be almost quite good.

  3. Just checked the time (and date) of my last post. You’ve not got your blog set to GMT; you’re an hour behind. You’re in one of the Atlantic shipping zones, Fitzroy or something. Is this a battleships training excercise?

  4. Happy Birthday John!

    I can verge on the eloquent myself. I think that’s the virtue of haikus; they demand precision.
    One of my Irish cousins reckons none of our family should be allowed anywhere near the Blarney Stone. 🙂

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