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Feather's Miscellany: Sex At Eighty

John Waddington-Feather brings a most encouraging tale for those who think they are past it.

Edie Summerscales had been a right one in her youth in Keighworth. She was as wild and feisty a lass as you would wish to meet if you were a wild and feisty lad. But as she grew up, she settled down and married Jack Summerscales, who was a rather shy and steady young man; but he was good-looking and that’s what attracted Edie to him.

Anyhow, they settled down to a very happy married life for forty years before he died suddenly, shortly after they’d returned from that luxury retirement holiday on the Mediterranean coast, where the smooth hotel manager had tried to con her out of £300 for extras like a jakusi bath and a golf course which were there on the schedule if needed though they hadn’t been used.. Edie had managed to get the £300 knocked off her bill because she’d looked the manager straight in the eye and said she and any woman had services which could be provided if needed, but the manager hadn’t requested them, so she wanted the £300 knocking off her bill. He saw the joke and deducted the extras from her bill. When Jack in all innocence asked what she meant by women providing services, she’d replied that any woman worth her salt could cook and she’d have baked the manager one of her luxury fruit cakes and charged him £300.

Jack died shortly afterwards in his seventy-fifth year. Edie was just seventy, as lively and sprightly as ever and soon on the hunt for another man. Yet she never forgot her dear Jack and constantly told folk what a marvellous husband he’d been. She started going on cruises with her lifelong friend May Phillips and remarked that cruising was just what Jack would have wanted, if he’d been alive. May said nothing. She knew that Jack hated the sea and wouldn’t even take Edie on a trip round Scarborough Bay on their annual holidays there.

Anyway, shortly after she’d been widowed a pushy salesman for vitamin and sex pills blanketed the area with leaflets and pushed one through Edie’s letterbox. The leaflet had a bold black heading in capital letters which read: “Sex at Eighty.” Edie read no further.

“It’s Fred Flaherty, I’ll bet,” she said. “He’s having me on. He lives at number eighty and he’s been giving me the wink ever since his wife died.”

She lived at number seventy and without more ado she toddled five doors up the road to number eighty with the leaflet and showed it to Fred. He asked her in for a cup of tea and they both had a good laugh; such a good laugh that they started meeting regularly, and eighteen months later she became Mrs Fred Flaherty number two.

She told May Phillips all about the leaflet and they also had a good laugh together; but she never said whether or not the pills on the leaflet worked. However, his friends soon noticed that after he wed Edie, Fred Flaherty was never without a smile on his face, and Edie took her vitamin pills regularly and lived to be a hundred.

John Waddington-Feather ©

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