copyright@gerryrose

 It took most of Sunday for Marie to recover from her first Meetup event. The words ‘Elite diners is for people with standards’ kept running around her head. She will never forget the look of the diners at the other tables close by. The restaurant staff were marvellous. She didn’t dare post another event. She kept having a variety of post mortems of the event running in her head. She messaged John to see if he was around for coffee, but he told her he was going for Sunday lunch at his son’s house. He was free for a coffee on Monday. It was already October and Marie felt like time and a lot of things in her life were slipping away.

 She had invited John to her flat for coffee and lunch. She really could not bear the thought of entering a restaurant.

John arrived at 11 am with a box of chocolates from Audrey’s he knew this was her favourite place to buy chocolates. He also had a copy of his latest poetry anthology. Marie liked the title, ‘Musings of An Old Fart-The Brighton and Hove Years 2015-2017 by John Ramsbottom’

Marie found his poetry a tad crass and inappropriate. As usual he commented on her charming apartment. Marie liked good coffee. She had a beans to cup coffee maker and she made John his favourite blend which was a long strong black coffee. She made herself a cappuccino.

‘Thanks Maria or should I say Marie?’

‘Yes I have reinvented myself.’

‘A rose by any other name etc.’

‘You are about to reinvent yourself, or even revert to type. Are you really selling up and going back to Harrogate?’

‘Yes love and the strange thing is, my son seems to be feeling guilty and yesterday was the second Sunday in a row that he has invited me for lunch.’

‘Don’t you have another son in Scotland?’

‘Yes but I am not moving up there, far too cold.’

‘How is the sale of your flat going?’

‘Sold and completed. I move next Friday.’

Marie was a little shocked by how quickly the sale had gone. Very soon she would not be having anymore outings with John.

‘Are you having regrets?’

‘I am 79 next month and apart from you, I didn’t really meet many like-minded folk down here.’

‘Do you think you gave it long enough?’

‘I think 2 years is long enough.’

‘2 years is nothing!’

‘It is when you are in your late 70’s. I am pleased that I met you, but I have not met many like-minded widowed or divorced men. I know you women have the same issue. What happens to men as they age?’

‘I think they become rather lazy. Or perhaps they were always lazy and lacked initiative. I think men have always relied on women to sort out their lives for them. I hear that a lot of them hang around in Libraries reading newspapers.’

‘A lot of them hang around in serious drinkers pubs too.’

‘Filling in time until they die.’

‘Depressing but true. Women are much better at organising their time.’

‘You have been pretty busy too John.’

‘Yes, but I miss Yorkshire and the ways of Yorkshire men!’

‘Sounds like that programme, ‘The last of the summer wine’.’

‘Yes and I just feel I need to go back to my roots.’

‘I went back to my roots over the summer and beat a hasty retreat back to Hove.’

‘Yes I want to hear about your trip to Paris, but what on earth happened at your first Meetup? Have you read the reviews?’

‘Reviews? No. oh my god, I haven’t been able to go on the site for fear of something dreadful being written.’

‘A young woman called Totty said her drink had been spiked.’

‘Young she was not and I think a fairer description is that her glass of water was tampered with.’

‘Oh what is the difference?’

‘To me spiking is about drugging someone and then sexually assaulting them. Totty’s water probably had vodka added to it.’

‘To improve the taste I assume?’

‘No she is probably a recovering alcoholic and someone in the group thought it would be entertaining to see what she would do if some alcohol entered her system.’

‘Good lord how cruel and puerile!’

‘Yes but it back fired on the individual. However, it made for a very unpleasant experience for one and all. I felt sorry for the guests at the other tables. I felt sorry for Totty and our guests. I suppose the person I feel really sorry for is myself.’

‘I can understand that love, but it wasn’t your fault.’

‘I know so were there any other comments?’

‘Someone called Ed said that he couldn’t understand how Totty would be able to prove her drink was spiked.’

‘And I suppose technically he is right. I tasted the water and I could tell there was some alcohol in it. It was thrown away and fresh water was poured into a new glass. I made sure that the person I suspected of tampering with the water had been moved as far away from Totty as possible.’

‘You did your best love. Whoever did the tampering was the lowest of the low. I think you should block him from your group and I am assuming it was a man?’

‘Yes and he was someone who thought that he would be able to get away with this sort of prank.’

‘Definitely block him.’

‘The thing is John, is that I really cannot imagine ever wanting to have a dining event again.’

‘You had your reasons for starting this group Marie. Was it anything to do with your trip to Paris?’

‘Yes of course. I decided that I don’t belong in Paris anymore and I need to expand my friendships in Hove and perhaps I should try and find a partner. I know not many men attend Meetups, but I thought I should give it a go. I also like going to nice restaurants. When you leave Hove, I will miss our lovely evenings out visiting the new restaurants in Hove and Brighton. Some of the other dining Meetups go to restaurants which are cheap and cheerful. I want to go to places which are chic and glitzy! I know there are not many of these in Hove but who knows more may open.’   

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying this Marie, but if I was 15 years younger, I would be trying to woo you.’

 Marie looked at John and realised that she was feeling rather sad that he was leaving Hove. She wondered what she should give him as a leaving present.

 Once they had finished their coffee, Marie asked John if he would like a glass of a very nice Chablis that she had brought back from France. He did not refuse. Marie had prepared a seafood platter the contents of which, she had bought from the shack on the beach when taking her early morning walk along the beach in Hove. Hove beach was quieter than the beach in Brighton. She felt able to reflect and collect her thoughts which is why Marie took a walk along the beach most mornings and she felt this was an important part of her routine and it was something that she missed when she was in Paris. She had made a smoked salmon mousse which they would have as their starter with some sourdough bread that she had baked on Sunday. She had made a simple green salad with a delicious dressing to go with the platter and a tarte tartine for dessert. Marie realised that this might be their last meal together in Hove for some time. She knew they would keep in touch but things would never be quite the same.

 John was enjoying the Chablis. Marie watched him and wondered whether he would miss Hove.

‘Apart from me John. What will you miss about Hove?’

‘I have been thinking about that a lot Marie. There is a poem about it in my anthology. Would you like me to read it to you?’

‘Yes please, do you know it off by heart?’

‘Yes I think so. But prompt me if I get it wrong. It is on page 10 in the anthology.’

Marie opened the anthology and found the poem it was entitled ‘Hove Actually’ which didn’t surprise Marie.

HOVE ACTUALLY

It’s very right-on in Brighton

Strikes me that anything goes

Have you seen the natives’ weird clothes!

Wear a bin bag in Brighton and no one would care.

People from Hove are more likely to stare

Brighton is for young hearts

But Hove is for old farts

Brighton has cinemas and gay porn

Hove has elegant squares and lawns

The Theatre Royal Brighton is iconic

The Komedia Brighton can be a tonic

You can enjoy an alcoholic drink whilst watching the screen

The price of that drink, not the film makes you scream

In Hove you can play croquet and bowls

In Brighton the addicts can hardly stroll

In Hove Park there are lots of pricey posh homes

Night time In Brighton, be careful where you roam

Hanover is hilly and to move there when old would be daft

There are lots of pubs there with trendy craft beers on draft

Hove is flatter and the older you get these things matter

George Street Hove is a good place for coffee and a natter

The locals are loyal and support the street and its shops

It is quiet in West Hove now and you seldom see the cops

The young’uns have moved to Poets’ Corner and seem to be thriving

There are a few old people there who seem to be just about surviving

The place is so trendy but old folk need neighbours who care

I doubt the trendies in Poets’ Corner even know they are there  

They might notice when the smell from next door gets really bad

When they find out that their old neighbour has died they may feel sad

I would rather live in Hove than Brighton

I guess I have never been right-on

I am proud of being an inappropriate fart

The older I have got I’ve made this into an art

Hove actually is a lovely place to live

Brighton is for those with a lot more to give

I think from this place I will soon depart

But Hove won’t be where I release my last fart

As you get older you long for the past and can’t help but feel fear

I don’t really fit in down here and the older I grow I long for Yorkshire

‘Bravo John! Yorkshire’s gain will be Hove’s loss!’

 Marie didn’t think it was a poem that scanned particularly well, but she understood the sentiment behind it. She knew that John had not felt that he fitted into Brighton and Hove. Hove he saw as the more civilised place, as he struggled with the values of Brighton. He had strong longings for his roots. She hoped he would not be disappointed. Marie knew that people often feel that when they move they will find a better life. She knew that this worked for some people. She also knew that you can move, but your ‘baggage’ goes with you. She felt that John needed to come to terms with some of the realities of growing older. Marie felt there was a lot of horse shit written about ‘ageing well’. Some people tried hard to age well but eating a healthy diet, exercising and keeping the brain active worked for some. There were other people who did all that they should do but still got dementia or some other terrible neurological disease.

 Marie brought out the starter and they sat down to eat it. The Chablis was going down well. John was very appreciative of the mousse and the home baked bread.

Their conversation as usual just seemed to be effortless and so companionable.

 Marie steered the conversation beyond John’s move to Yorkshire, she asked about his travel plans.

 ‘Trouble is love, that when you are over 70 the travel insurance becomes quite prohibitive.’

 Marie thought that John was definitely in danger of entering the territory of the really boring old fart who does very little! She had been the one spurring him on and who would play that role when he returned to Harrogate. She thought this was a shame because John was an attractive guy who should still be up for interesting stuff.

 The Chablis was finished but Marie had a very nice Pouilly Fume and she opened this, as it would go down well with the seafood platter. Of course John would protest and claim that drinking at lunch time was a decadent thing to do. He loved the seafood platter and the green salad with the simple dressing she had made.

 John questioned her about her thoughts about finding a partner.

‘Who would be your ideal man Marie?’

‘A kind man. Someone who has led a good life and knows how to treat a woman well. I think a widower because I have the feeling that women hold on to the good men. Divorced men are probably divorced for a reason. Women initiate most of the divorces these days and women don’t want a man who is unfaithful and doesn’t contribute much to the relationship. I would want someone who shared my love of good food and wine. They would have a love of the theatre and the arts. Is that too much to ask for?’

‘What about their age and looks?’

‘Looks matter. Some men age better than others.’

‘What about intimacy?’

‘The older I get the more I fear it.’

‘Why?’

‘I fear the sort of man who wants a woman just for their own sexual needs.’

‘You have sexual needs too I would imagine Marie.’

‘I do but I take sex a lot more seriously the older I get. Which may sound strange.’

‘No I understand love.’

‘I haven’t had sex with anyone since my wife June died.’

‘Have you wanted to?’

‘I think you probably know that I have Marie.’

Marie cleared the plates and John offered to help but Marie suggested that they took a break before having dessert. The light was beginning to fade so Marie lit her candles. They sat on her sofa.

‘John I think you must still have some travel venues on your bucket list. I think you shouldn’t let the travel insurance put you off. Come on where would you like to go?’

‘Romantic places such as Paris, Venice, Rome.’

‘Not long haul?’

‘No I don’t like those long plane journeys.’

Marie’s phone pinged and she looked at it. There was a message from her Meetup group. Quite a conversation was going back and forth from scruffy Fred to the group. Only Ed was responding. Marie couldn’t resist reading the messages. Fred was slating the group and her running of it.

‘That uptight French bitch should get a life! Totty should look in the mirror and realise that her name contravenes the trades description act. Don’t join this group they are just a bunch of sad gits.’

Ed answered.

‘Your behaviour that night was unforgiveable and I question how and why someone like you thinks that sort of behaviour is acceptable anywhere and let alone in Brighton and Hove.’

 Marie felt both annoyed and sad in equal measures She had wanted to start a group which would attract the best people in the city. Fred had to be one of the worst people she had met. Marie felt very sad and was then quite surprised when the tears began to fall. John asked her what was wrong and when she told him. He moved closer to her and took her in his arms. He held her and stroked her hair. She found herself feeling very comfortable in this embrace. When he kissed her on the lips she didn’t resist. She felt safe. She knew he desired her. Suddenly she knew what his present should be and he did not resist as she stood up and took his hand and led him to her bedroom.  

 When Tuesday dawned and after John left, Marie wondered why she had felt so vulnerable when she had read those messages. It was very out of character for her. She realised that her experience of rejection by her French friends and her family had hurt her. The Meetup group had added more hurt. John had been so lovely to her. She was so used to being the person who helped others. She would speak to her supervisor about what this meant when they met later that day.