We went to the boat
club for dinner this evening. Well, it wasn’t exactly the boat club, more a
restaurant with a veranda over looking the lake but it had that nautical feel.
Plus all the other diners looked like they were from a financial services
advertisement.
You know, the
ones from Fidelity where the guy is about 60 with silver hair and a look that
says smugly how, thanks to his investment prowess he has done amazingly well and so been able to retire early to the shore. Alongside him, his wife
looks lovingly towards him as it means she can now ‘do lunch’ every day. She is
probably also having a secret affair now that his Viagra no longer works but we
won’t go into that.
Except the ones
here in Metung don’t quite look like that, thank goodness. They seem to be the
ones that despite the charges imposed by their pension fund have
still been able to retire here. They look less like the J.R.’s dad in Dallas
and a bit more like Jim Broadbent in Bridget Jones’ Diary. People say that I am
beginning to look like him. But I don’t care.
So I feel
completely at home here. Meanwhile Sally looks lovingly into my eyes, after two
glasses of wine with a Crème Brule on the way, safe in the knowledge that she
has hidden my Viagra prescription.
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