a large glass of Merlot
‘I’m being entertained,’ the man said, as he arrived at the table next to mine. He was accompanied by two ladies of, I guessed, an equivalent pension-receiving age. After the waiter handed them menus and while they were searching for spectacles, I said.
‘Perhaps when these ladies have finished dancing on your table, they will consider entertaining me?’
His expression was sour, reminiscent of the view of a cat walking away, but both the women, I noticed, had accepted my request as a compliment. After all, I clearly had many years to survive before I would become a senior citizen.
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