My father Ken was always philosophical about old age, and always held the
belief that there was no such thing, and work was the tool of youth. He
always mixed with younger people, and loved it. Regularly, even in his mid
eighties, he would ring me and say 'Get hold of Ian and Charles (my
brothers) - we're going out for a pint.'
We had some marvelous evenings with dad, and about a thousand hangovers
-that I can remember.
At one of my home barbecues several of us were watching the antics of
Chiselle, the wife of a long term friend of mine, who was playing with
'Bengy' our previous springer spaniel on the lawn (funny but whenever I
think of Bengy I still choke a little).
Now to understand this anecdote I've got to describe Chiselle. She's one of
those drop down dead gorgeous ladies that even those who've known her for
twenty years can't take their eyes off her. She's got long curly dark hair,
eyes so blue that they immediately turn heads, and a figure and good looks
that the Greek Goddesses would fight over. She's also French and speaks
English with that wonderful French accent that we all find so attractive.
Chiselle oozes sophistication and also wears those long silky dresses that
cling - got the picture guys?
Ken spotted her running round the lawn and tapped my elbow. As he took a
long thoughtful swig of his Gin and tonic he said, "The good lord has a
wicked sense of humour - when he takes away the capability he should also
take away the desire."
Paul
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