my lady of advancing years

Odd though it may seem most men coming out of a marriage without having ‘orchestrated’ a partner switch have no idea how to re-enter the world of dating. The natural reaction is to fill the void. They do after all need to find someone to wash their socks and iron their shirts. If it wasn’t for the horny devil playing up in the nether regions a surrogate mother would probably suffice.

A ‘friend’ suggested a good place to meet ‘like-minded’ philanthropists was on a cruise ship. As if there was some kind of logic attached he reckoned the ‘pickings’ would be of a better class as the hoi polloi did not have the where with all to attend such a bash. What this had to do with anything I’m not sure but it sounded good at the time.

The Mediterranean millpond could take the weight of a thirty zillion ton plasticized tanker without creating too many ripples so I merrily signed up to an adventure.

Before I could close the cabin door there was an invite to join the other ‘single’ travelers.

At lunchtime on the first day I witnessed the shame of being in my position. Out of a potential cast list of fourteen hundred the auditioning players for this production amounted to six. One ‘zimmer’ frame complete with hearing aid, one coconut on legs, an alcoholic, an hermaphrodite, the jolliest ‘lady of advancing years’ I had ever met in my life and me.

To steer this motley crew in the direction of ‘fun’ the entertainments officer did her best to entertain. Before the bread roll had hit the soup lashings of alcohol were provided by way of an ice breaker. Not a good idea when an alcoholic fancies becoming captain for the afternoon. I hastily excused myself on the grounds of feeling sea sick. As my choice of flotilla had been made on the assumption stable waters would keep me free of mal de mar I don’t think anyone believed me.

On a midnight stroll round the upper deck I was ‘albatross spotting’ and thinking about how much a mistake all this was when I spied the ‘lady of advancing years’. She was well into the area of life where every day is a blessing. It was apparent even to me she had been quite stunning in her youth. In fact the twinkle in her eye suggested she may still have been actively pursuing her dreams. She had more spirit than all the rest of the lunchtime menagerie put together. We smiled and passed pleasantries. In particular she mentioned how cold the Med got once the sun and yardarm had spliced company. I retired to my cabin and dreamed of hitting an iceberg.

Given I was trying my best to engage with life I had enrolled in every organized visitation into port there was. I was playing the package trip traveler to the n-th degree.

I saw the sights. Impressive they are. When the sun shines and you’re paying wads of cash for the privilege of being there you can convince yourself that anywhere is impressive.

Strangely no matter the port, no matter the trip, there was always a flea market or bazaar. So, in order to show my generosity I broke into my allowance and bought ‘the lady of advancing years’ a shawl. A small token of gratitude for being the only smile I’d encountered in the last seventy two hours. I reckoned it would help keep her right side of unfrozen on her nightly wanderings.

By way of thanks, in every sense except the obvious we became friends. Frankly I’m not sure how I would have gotten through two weeks on the high seas without her. During the day I joined the guided tours and dutifully pointed my camera at a collection of old buildings, and at night I entertained and was entertained by my ‘lady of advancing years’.

I never entirely found out how the twinkle in her eye got there, but she has hinted, and I have my suspicions. If I dodge the coffin for as long as she has I hope I will be afforded the same voracity for life. In fact, to this day she is still as shipshape and seaworthy as anyone I have ever met.

I raise my glass to her. God bless her and all who have sailed in her!