No such luck! The young lady was just curious.
C and I walked up to the The Grill and sat at the bar, both determined not to drink too much. Our conversation followed the usual pattern: we talked of Heather, money, our forthcoming trip to America, the cancer.
"How are you feeling these days?" C asked.
"Yeah, fine. I mean no different to how I felt a month ago - in fact not much different to when I was first told, and that was eight months ago."
"That's good, isn't it? I tell you, I'll go before you."
"So I'll be the one that ends up with all the money. That's good!"
We then talked of how our estate should be left (or distributed as I described it) by the last man standing, as it were. "If it's me, I'll probably make it percentages, you know. 5% to him 10% to her and so on."
We moved on putting the world to right, talked of Putin's invasion of Ukraine last Wednesday and how, it seems, he is not doing as well as he hoped because there is more resistance than was expected. But, as some eminent person once said, "The first casualty in war is Truth." So who knows what is actually going on?
Then a girl, spoke to me. The bar, by now, was crowded and noisy and I couldn't understand what she was saying. She was young, pretty I had to ask her several times to repeat the question before I understood her. "What football team do you support?" she had asked.
Manchester United, I told her. She asked why and the three of us were soon into a conversation. She was curious about us. What are two guys like you doing here was the basis of her curiosity.
"Like you?" I asked - "what do you mean 'like you?'"
"Well , I mean,`' she waved towards the now crowded restaurant, "I mean you are older than most people here."
True. Though I didn't think she needed to point it out, but she was young and people under thirty, I have noticed, don't always realise they are saying things that, maybe, they shouldn't. She had lived in East Grinstead all her life she told us, as she asked more questions. On finding out we were brothers the inevitable, who is the oldest was asked. Usually, when this question comes up, to my delight, C is usually picked. But no, she pointed to me saying, "I think it's you because you are a little deaf."
What! Me, deaf? Nonsense! But then I do miss words every now and then and have to ask people to repeat, so maybe...
He name was Isabel, she told us. Issie people call her, she said (or should it be Izzie?) We chatted for a several minutes and the questions and answers flowed. At one stage I thought of offering to sell - or more likely give - her "Blame it On the War, the autobiography I have written, then she would have all the answers. But the conversation moved on and I didn't mention it, but we swapped email addresses so maybe there could be further contact.