“How long’s it been then, Featherstone?”
“What do you mean, how long’s it been?” I had a fair idea what he was getting at.
Dave took a mouthful of beer. “Since you last had a date?”
He knew as well as I did.
“I’m your best mate,” he continued. “How long has that been?”
“Look, Dave, if we’re in for a round of twenty questions, can we at least vary them?”
“Since we were at college together,” he replied on my behalf. “How long’s that been?”
I gave him a look that said: You give me the gun, I’ll figure out how to pull the trigger.
“Sorry,” he said, “but April’s not coming back, you know.”
“We’ll see about that next spring.” I grabbed my beer and drained the glass. “Same again, Mary,” I called out.
Mary pulled two pints, and placed them on clean drip mats. “You two look cheerful.”
Her ironical observation spurred me into a quip. “We’re just waiting for the test results, Mary, my love.”
She took the line and said rather gravely, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know. What test results?”
“I’ve been to have my head examined,” I said.
“Oh dear, that sounds bad.”
“Yeah, doctor says my head has a mind of its own; full of business it should keep to itself.” I hoped it would be the end of the conversation. Instead, she suggested I get a second opinion.
“What do doctors know? Five years at college wasted on most of them.” She jaunted off to serve another customer.
“Don’t take it out on Mary,” my best mate said. “Look, we’ve known each other long enough for me to know you well enough to know what I know.’
“Oooo, and what do you know, all knowing Dave. Spit it out,” I spat out.
“She ain’t coming back.”
“Wouldn’t have her back.”
Dave emptied his glass and reached for the fresh pint. “What’s stopping you dating again, then?”
“I’m practising for the priesthood,” I sighed.
Dave is not without his own sense of humour. “So you want to have a go at dating young boys then?”
“Why not?” I replied. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
Dave gave me a stare that seemed to doubt my sincerity. “He happens to be twenty five years old.”
“Who happens to be twenty five years old?”
“April’s new bloke. And they’re engaged to be married when your divorce is through.”
“Look, Dave, he’s not old enough to get married. I saw his mum take him to buy a pair of long trousers on Saturday. He shits himself from the effort of trying to force whiskers out of his face.”
He didn’t laugh. “I see the green eyed monster speaking. April’s got herself a toy boy. You should do the same.”
I gave Dave the ‘give me the gun’ look again, only this time I planned to use it on him. “I have to pass my theology exam first. Look, you’ve packed up smoking; I’ve had it with women. Filthy, expensive habit, and shortens your life.”
“Yeah, I feel fitter for it, and saving a fortune.”
“I was talking about quitting women. But the effect’s the same.”
Mary came tripping back holding up a poster. “Hey, Featherstone, you may be interested in this,” she said, with a big grin.
SPEED DATING NIGHT.
HERE NEXT THURSDAY
AT
THE BRICKLAYERS’ ARMS
“Well, how about it?” she asked.
I returned her smile. “You should have asked me that twenty years ago, my love. “
“Not me, silly. There will be plenty of desperate, I mean, lonely women looking for Mr. Right.”
“Mary,” I replied, “I’ve just been telling Dave…”
“He’s celebrate,” Dave finished for me.
“Celebrate? Whatever. Look, I’m off women for life, and if I’m here next Thursday, I’ll be like the apostrophe on your poster.”
She fell for it. “Oh, why’s that?” she asked.
I leant forward as if to confess. Mary leant towards me to listen.
“Because,” I paused for effect, “I too will be out of place.”
* * *
I looked grammatically correct that following Thursday; unless there are such parts of speech as dick heads. I’d had a WTF moment, and allowed Mary and Dave to talk me into it. I wore my best suit, clean underwear and my freshest pair of socks. Checking my watch, I made my way to The Bricklayer’s Arms.
“Nervous?” Dave asked, as he handed me a pint.
“Nervous? Why should I be nervous?” I replied, swallowing half the pint in one go.
“Well, I mean, when was the last time you chatted up a girl?”
I ignored the remark.
Dave must have presumed I was considering my answer. “Well, roughly how long ago? Look, I’ll narrow it down: This century or last?”
“Very funny,” I replied. April and I had been married for thirty one years, six of them happily, I reminded him.
“So, not since before the war, then,” the smart-arse came back.
“Which war do you mean, first or second?”
“Yes, I thought so. So what will you use as your opening line?”
He looked so eager to play his little game. And he was my best friend. But I felt that he needed to be kept in his place. “Probably the same one I always used: Would you like to come back to my air raid shelter? You’d look great in a gas mask.”
Dave took a sip of beer. “I’m not convinced you’re joking. Listen, why don’t you practise on me? I’ll pretend to be a woman. Go on, what would you say?”
I studied my mate. “Dave, you tosser, sometimes I don’t think you need to pretend. If the bird looks anything like you, I’d probably say, Gillette makes a good razor, don’t they.”
In a camp voice he answered, “Yes, they leave my face smooth, as smooth as your chat-up lines. Now be serious, what are you going to say?”
“I don’t know, Dave, I’ll just go with the flow and see what comes out.”
“Then you don’t stand a chance. Same again? It’s your turn to buy.”
I climbed the stairs to the Speed Dating meeting in the room above the pub. Mary held me firmly by the arm. “Do I get to wear a blindfold?” I asked.
“No, but the girls do,” she replied.
I brightened as we entered the chamber. Twelve women sat at tables opposite a dozen empty chairs. A quick scan told me I could get lucky tonight. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for the priesthood after all. I was further encouraged as I sized up the competition. Ten guys in a variety of shapes and sizes with an age span covering five decades stood at a makeshift bar laden with glasses of wine. I did the math and said, “Well, Mary, looks like one lady will be going home disappointed.”
“I fear many more than that will.”
I looked again at the hopefuls, and saw her point. I spotted a couple of the Bricklayer’s regulars, and sidled over to them for a chat as Mary called for everyone’s attention.
“Okay, now here we go. The rules are simple. You each have a numbered nametag. Make a note of anyone you’d like to meet again and give me your selection at the end of the evening. I shall cross-reference them and let you know if there’s a match. Gentlemen, please find your table number, and take a seat. I will call ‘time out’ every four minutes. The gentlemen will then move to the lady seated to your right, and so on. Any questions? No, good, let’s start.”
“Hello,” I peered at her nametag, “Gorgon.”
“It’s Jordan, actually,” she corrected.
“Well, you won’t be an easy one to cross, I bet.”
“Do what?” she said in the vernacular of youth.
I felt I shouldn’t be rude. “So tell me, Jordan, you seem a bit young for this malarkey, surely a pretty girl like you would have many boyfriends already.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here ‘cause of Auntie Mary,” she explained.”I’m really only here to make up the numbers, like.”
“That’s an honest answer.” I smiled benignly. “And I thought I might be in with a chance.”
“Do what?” she ungraciously replied.
I recognised the next ‘lady’ at once. She was a regular subject for Hogarth’s etchings. The last time I’d seen her, was in an engraving titled Gin Alley, a baby falling from her drunken lap. She entertained me in a slurred, smoker’s rasp for the longest four minutes of my life.
Sally was next up, a welcome relief from Mother Sot, but nevertheless, clearly not my type. She definitely seemed interested in me though, so I felt obliged to use the ‘look great in a gas mask’ line, just before Mary called time. I stood and shrugged as Sally made a point of looking distracted as I wished her farewell.
I fancied Melanie. She’d made a good effort at looking late thirties, so I aged her at forty five. Her teeth were obviously her own, unless she had a blind prosthodontist, but her ample bosom assured her of my undivided attention. I complimented her on her looks; she said I didn’t look bad myself. Our chat went very well, I thought. She smiled and nodded as I said, “Maybe see you again,” when Mary called out, “All change for the circle line.”
I shuffled along to the next table. The perfume was memorable. The voice I’d know anywhere.
“What on earth are you doing here?” She asked, not too politely.
“Is that really you?” I asked. “How long have you been a blonde?”
“Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s not. I’ve had a makeover, and where are your glasses?”
“I lost them.”
“What’s that in your top pocket, then? Too vain to wear them?”
“Ah, there they are. I’ve been looking everywhere. So where’re your glasses, and what are are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
“I’ve already explained. I lost my glasses. I’ve been asking if anyone has seen them. Now it’s your turn: Where’s little Timmy, past his bedtime?”
“His name is Tyron, and if you must know, we’ve split up.”
I fished out my glasses and stuck them where they should have been all along. She was right, as usual. I shouldn’t have been so vain. April came into focus, and she didn’t look bad. “So you came here to find a real man?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied, “And in a few minute’s time, I can continue.”
I made a show of looking along the row. “Sorry, my love, everyone here has obviously left school years ago.”
“Well maybe I’ll find someone who’s not queuing up to draw their pension.”
“Pension pays better than a paper round.”
I watched as she searched for a comeback. “Oh, go to hell,” she finally exclaimed.
I guess I must have looked a little sad as I said, “I’ve been there, April. I don’t want to go back. It ain’t such a hot place.”
The hard stare softened; a smile almost cracked features that I found to be a strange mixture of familiar and fresh. “So how have you really been managing?” she asked.
I wanted to answer: Lonely. And tell her I was missing the nagging, and her annoying habits. I wanted to tell her my thoughts, as I had in the days when we were honest and open with our feelings. “I’ve been managing fine,” I actually said, but she was looking into my eyes when I said it.
We kept that pose, each waiting for the other to say something. I wanted it to be something nice. April opened her mouth, but shut it as Mary finally called, “Time’s up.”
I didn’t move. April sat facing me as I used facial muscles to raise and lower my eyebrows, together and one at a time until she began to smile. Ted Turner stood at my shoulder. I looked up at him. “What?” I asked.
“Come on, mate, it’s my turn,” he said.
I looked at April, and again at Ted. I nodded and said, “Do you fancy him?”
“Not really,” she replied.
April mirrored my action as I stood at last. With my gaze fixed on hers I said, “Sorry, Ted. It looks like I have found the one I’ve been looking for.”
“That’s nice,” she said, as she sat back down. “I haven’t. Hello, Ted, how have you been keeping?”
“What do you mean, how long’s it been?” I had a fair idea what he was getting at.
Dave took a mouthful of beer. “Since you last had a date?”
He knew as well as I did.
“I’m your best mate,” he continued. “How long has that been?”
“Look, Dave, if we’re in for a round of twenty questions, can we at least vary them?”
“Since we were at college together,” he replied on my behalf. “How long’s that been?”
I gave him a look that said: You give me the gun, I’ll figure out how to pull the trigger.
“Sorry,” he said, “but April’s not coming back, you know.”
“We’ll see about that next spring.” I grabbed my beer and drained the glass. “Same again, Mary,” I called out.
Mary pulled two pints, and placed them on clean drip mats. “You two look cheerful.”
Her ironical observation spurred me into a quip. “We’re just waiting for the test results, Mary, my love.”
She took the line and said rather gravely, “Oh sorry, I didn’t know. What test results?”
“I’ve been to have my head examined,” I said.
“Oh dear, that sounds bad.”
“Yeah, doctor says my head has a mind of its own; full of business it should keep to itself.” I hoped it would be the end of the conversation. Instead, she suggested I get a second opinion.
“What do doctors know? Five years at college wasted on most of them.” She jaunted off to serve another customer.
“Don’t take it out on Mary,” my best mate said. “Look, we’ve known each other long enough for me to know you well enough to know what I know.’
“Oooo, and what do you know, all knowing Dave. Spit it out,” I spat out.
“She ain’t coming back.”
“Wouldn’t have her back.”
Dave emptied his glass and reached for the fresh pint. “What’s stopping you dating again, then?”
“I’m practising for the priesthood,” I sighed.
Dave is not without his own sense of humour. “So you want to have a go at dating young boys then?”
“Why not?” I replied. “What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
Dave gave me a stare that seemed to doubt my sincerity. “He happens to be twenty five years old.”
“Who happens to be twenty five years old?”
“April’s new bloke. And they’re engaged to be married when your divorce is through.”
“Look, Dave, he’s not old enough to get married. I saw his mum take him to buy a pair of long trousers on Saturday. He shits himself from the effort of trying to force whiskers out of his face.”
He didn’t laugh. “I see the green eyed monster speaking. April’s got herself a toy boy. You should do the same.”
I gave Dave the ‘give me the gun’ look again, only this time I planned to use it on him. “I have to pass my theology exam first. Look, you’ve packed up smoking; I’ve had it with women. Filthy, expensive habit, and shortens your life.”
“Yeah, I feel fitter for it, and saving a fortune.”
“I was talking about quitting women. But the effect’s the same.”
Mary came tripping back holding up a poster. “Hey, Featherstone, you may be interested in this,” she said, with a big grin.
SPEED DATING NIGHT.
HERE NEXT THURSDAY
AT
THE BRICKLAYERS’ ARMS
“Well, how about it?” she asked.
I returned her smile. “You should have asked me that twenty years ago, my love. “
“Not me, silly. There will be plenty of desperate, I mean, lonely women looking for Mr. Right.”
“Mary,” I replied, “I’ve just been telling Dave…”
“He’s celebrate,” Dave finished for me.
“Celebrate? Whatever. Look, I’m off women for life, and if I’m here next Thursday, I’ll be like the apostrophe on your poster.”
She fell for it. “Oh, why’s that?” she asked.
I leant forward as if to confess. Mary leant towards me to listen.
“Because,” I paused for effect, “I too will be out of place.”
* * *
I looked grammatically correct that following Thursday; unless there are such parts of speech as dick heads. I’d had a WTF moment, and allowed Mary and Dave to talk me into it. I wore my best suit, clean underwear and my freshest pair of socks. Checking my watch, I made my way to The Bricklayer’s Arms.
“Nervous?” Dave asked, as he handed me a pint.
“Nervous? Why should I be nervous?” I replied, swallowing half the pint in one go.
“Well, I mean, when was the last time you chatted up a girl?”
I ignored the remark.
Dave must have presumed I was considering my answer. “Well, roughly how long ago? Look, I’ll narrow it down: This century or last?”
“Very funny,” I replied. April and I had been married for thirty one years, six of them happily, I reminded him.
“So, not since before the war, then,” the smart-arse came back.
“Which war do you mean, first or second?”
“Yes, I thought so. So what will you use as your opening line?”
He looked so eager to play his little game. And he was my best friend. But I felt that he needed to be kept in his place. “Probably the same one I always used: Would you like to come back to my air raid shelter? You’d look great in a gas mask.”
Dave took a sip of beer. “I’m not convinced you’re joking. Listen, why don’t you practise on me? I’ll pretend to be a woman. Go on, what would you say?”
I studied my mate. “Dave, you tosser, sometimes I don’t think you need to pretend. If the bird looks anything like you, I’d probably say, Gillette makes a good razor, don’t they.”
In a camp voice he answered, “Yes, they leave my face smooth, as smooth as your chat-up lines. Now be serious, what are you going to say?”
“I don’t know, Dave, I’ll just go with the flow and see what comes out.”
“Then you don’t stand a chance. Same again? It’s your turn to buy.”
I climbed the stairs to the Speed Dating meeting in the room above the pub. Mary held me firmly by the arm. “Do I get to wear a blindfold?” I asked.
“No, but the girls do,” she replied.
I brightened as we entered the chamber. Twelve women sat at tables opposite a dozen empty chairs. A quick scan told me I could get lucky tonight. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for the priesthood after all. I was further encouraged as I sized up the competition. Ten guys in a variety of shapes and sizes with an age span covering five decades stood at a makeshift bar laden with glasses of wine. I did the math and said, “Well, Mary, looks like one lady will be going home disappointed.”
“I fear many more than that will.”
I looked again at the hopefuls, and saw her point. I spotted a couple of the Bricklayer’s regulars, and sidled over to them for a chat as Mary called for everyone’s attention.
“Okay, now here we go. The rules are simple. You each have a numbered nametag. Make a note of anyone you’d like to meet again and give me your selection at the end of the evening. I shall cross-reference them and let you know if there’s a match. Gentlemen, please find your table number, and take a seat. I will call ‘time out’ every four minutes. The gentlemen will then move to the lady seated to your right, and so on. Any questions? No, good, let’s start.”
“Hello,” I peered at her nametag, “Gorgon.”
“It’s Jordan, actually,” she corrected.
“Well, you won’t be an easy one to cross, I bet.”
“Do what?” she said in the vernacular of youth.
I felt I shouldn’t be rude. “So tell me, Jordan, you seem a bit young for this malarkey, surely a pretty girl like you would have many boyfriends already.”
“Yeah, well, I’m here ‘cause of Auntie Mary,” she explained.”I’m really only here to make up the numbers, like.”
“That’s an honest answer.” I smiled benignly. “And I thought I might be in with a chance.”
“Do what?” she ungraciously replied.
I recognised the next ‘lady’ at once. She was a regular subject for Hogarth’s etchings. The last time I’d seen her, was in an engraving titled Gin Alley, a baby falling from her drunken lap. She entertained me in a slurred, smoker’s rasp for the longest four minutes of my life.
Sally was next up, a welcome relief from Mother Sot, but nevertheless, clearly not my type. She definitely seemed interested in me though, so I felt obliged to use the ‘look great in a gas mask’ line, just before Mary called time. I stood and shrugged as Sally made a point of looking distracted as I wished her farewell.
I fancied Melanie. She’d made a good effort at looking late thirties, so I aged her at forty five. Her teeth were obviously her own, unless she had a blind prosthodontist, but her ample bosom assured her of my undivided attention. I complimented her on her looks; she said I didn’t look bad myself. Our chat went very well, I thought. She smiled and nodded as I said, “Maybe see you again,” when Mary called out, “All change for the circle line.”
I shuffled along to the next table. The perfume was memorable. The voice I’d know anywhere.
“What on earth are you doing here?” She asked, not too politely.
“Is that really you?” I asked. “How long have you been a blonde?”
“Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s not. I’ve had a makeover, and where are your glasses?”
“I lost them.”
“What’s that in your top pocket, then? Too vain to wear them?”
“Ah, there they are. I’ve been looking everywhere. So where’re your glasses, and what are are you doing here?”
“I asked you first.”
“I’ve already explained. I lost my glasses. I’ve been asking if anyone has seen them. Now it’s your turn: Where’s little Timmy, past his bedtime?”
“His name is Tyron, and if you must know, we’ve split up.”
I fished out my glasses and stuck them where they should have been all along. She was right, as usual. I shouldn’t have been so vain. April came into focus, and she didn’t look bad. “So you came here to find a real man?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied, “And in a few minute’s time, I can continue.”
I made a show of looking along the row. “Sorry, my love, everyone here has obviously left school years ago.”
“Well maybe I’ll find someone who’s not queuing up to draw their pension.”
“Pension pays better than a paper round.”
I watched as she searched for a comeback. “Oh, go to hell,” she finally exclaimed.
I guess I must have looked a little sad as I said, “I’ve been there, April. I don’t want to go back. It ain’t such a hot place.”
The hard stare softened; a smile almost cracked features that I found to be a strange mixture of familiar and fresh. “So how have you really been managing?” she asked.
I wanted to answer: Lonely. And tell her I was missing the nagging, and her annoying habits. I wanted to tell her my thoughts, as I had in the days when we were honest and open with our feelings. “I’ve been managing fine,” I actually said, but she was looking into my eyes when I said it.
We kept that pose, each waiting for the other to say something. I wanted it to be something nice. April opened her mouth, but shut it as Mary finally called, “Time’s up.”
I didn’t move. April sat facing me as I used facial muscles to raise and lower my eyebrows, together and one at a time until she began to smile. Ted Turner stood at my shoulder. I looked up at him. “What?” I asked.
“Come on, mate, it’s my turn,” he said.
I looked at April, and again at Ted. I nodded and said, “Do you fancy him?”
“Not really,” she replied.
April mirrored my action as I stood at last. With my gaze fixed on hers I said, “Sorry, Ted. It looks like I have found the one I’ve been looking for.”
“That’s nice,” she said, as she sat back down. “I haven’t. Hello, Ted, how have you been keeping?”