When the Ipplepen “old gimmers” finally relent and leave the haven that is the Wellington Inn having exhausted their reminiscences of yesteryear until their next visit (probably tomorrow when they will repeat them) they face a problem – namely – what to do for the rest of the day.
They could choose to go home to the “lists” of jobs that their long suffering and increasingly despairing wives continue to add too and to taking the blame not only for what they haven’t done that is on the list but also for not doing the things that aren’t on the list that they didn’t know about, or….
They could go and sit in the play park and read the Advertiser usually starting with the obituaries to see who has passed on and discuss whether it is worth taking the time to attend the funeral or memorial service.
The decision usually comes down to whether the wake is to be held in the Welly on the grounds that they’ll probably be in there anyway.
If the weather is bad they may decide that rather than facing up to measuring up for even more curtains they could go to the Hub and read a book, have a cup of tea and a slice of home made cake.
In years gone by before they awake one morning to find that they had become “old gimmers” they may have sat and admired (especially in the summer when it appears that clothes are optional) the form of the young women but nowadays they have come to terms with their waning powers.
Not the least their waning powers of memory.
Somewhere in the deepest recesses of their remaining memory they recall great passions on which even the pilot light has now been extinguished to be replaced by much safer means of excitement such as should it be jam or cream spread on the scone first, and a cup of tea.
When the “old gimmers” now talk about ‘planting their seed’ it is not a sexual euphemism but about what they will be growing on their allotment plot in the coming season.
Not for them stress of conquest that would come about as the result of taking a magic blue pill they would rather play safe and head back to the Welly for a pint of Otter.