Perhaps it's just me?...........

About 5 years ago an English couple moved here from French France, stop booing at the back! The husband, let’s call him Adam, had experienced a massive stroke was immobilised down one side and had difficulty speaking. At the same time my mate, Ken, was diagnosed with bone cancer, he hadn’t long to live but was determined to race me on our mobility scooters. Typical Yorkie, tough as the proverbial old boots. 

Both men were suffering mentally as they felt cut out of the usual social activities. After a quick chat with the landlord of the pub explaining the situation, he kindly rearranged a table and chairs in the snug. A wheelchair belonging to Ken was used for Adam and every Tuesday, at 1100, four of us would gather in the snug for coffee and chap talk for an hour. Gradually Adam’s eyes started sparkling and his speech improved. He had been a rally driver for several famous teams, consequently his stories were fascinating. Ken loved the experience and would tell us tales of his time in charge of the mental health provision in the Manchester NW area. 

Adam’s wife became very neurotic about him going out with us. He was ‘safe’ two of us looked after him, Ken just hurled invective. (Can you develop Tourette’s in your dotage?) One Tuesday she joined us after 20 minutes and insisted she wanted to become part of our little group. The other chaps couldn’t look me in the eye, we had been blindsided. After a short pause I looked at her, explained this was for “our” benefit, an opportunity for us to get out of the house, enjoy a bit of bonding and mental relief; consequently I said, “No, and that’s non-negotiable.” That was fun, she told me in clipped tones that I am a “Chauvinist.” With that she wheeled Adam to her car and we never saw him again. The pub closed shortly afterwards as it was unviable. Not the end of the world, we moved location to our conservatory, Elaine bought new cafetieres, we were up and running. Then came Covid, doh, the ethereal omnipotent one can be a pain in the butt sometimes.

Bootnecks never give up. We are given tasks, the impossible we do immediately, miracles may take an hour or two for planning purposes. Recently three of the gents I have taken portraits of asked if we could kickstart the group again. Yes! Of course, as soon as the rules allow us.

Ladies and gentlemen may I present the most feared group of wrinklies in the village, I give you, The Four Cappuccinos. We ride again.  

Enjoy a Java