I bumped into Mr Binks the other day while strolling in Hyde Park. He and I go way back but it had been an age since we had last seen one another - university days if memory serves. We chatted for a bit, soaking up the sunshine and fondly reminiscing over our misspent youth. He suggested that we get together and visit one of our old stomping grounds, The Laughing Lagomorphs.
The day that we were to meet up soon arrived, with me in a rather jovial mood. I knocked loudly on the large solid wood door. Mr Binks was always a stickler for security and I saw that not much had changed. Throughout our academic years, he always felt that someone was out to get him; and perhaps they were.
"Welcome my old friend!" he said in a booming voice, holding out his hand. "Please do come in, we're just about ready to leave." I followed him into the hallway when he suddenly turned to face me with a serious look.
"Tell me old man," he said turning like a model on a catwalk, "does this fur make me look fat?"
I looked him up and down and assured him that it didn't - well, not too much at any rate. What can one say to an old college mate who, if truth were told, had like all of us begun to thicken somewhat around the middle? This kind of this was par for the course, the aging course!
"Well then, grab your hat and your coat and let's be off!" he laughed. Mr Binks was definitely in good spirits this evening and not surprisingly either: he still cut quite a dashing figure and was sure to have the ladies whispering among themselves. Quite the eligible bachelor he was.
The Laughing Lagomorphs was filled to capacity and we could hear the steady heartbeat of the music thumping from the basement below. The dance floor must certainly have been 'pumping' as the youngsters so succinctly put it. After finding ourselves a small table, we threaded our way through the heaving crowd towards the buffet area.
"I trust, my dear sir, that you will find the fare to your satisfaction," said Mr Binks with a smile. No one could pull off the humble waiter look like he could! "Please follow me. I recommend the house speciality - the Savoy cabbage - tonight. While the food is always good at this establishment, I heartily recommend that you sample your selection prior to dishing up."
"Don't be shy, I do this all the time! Find yourself the biggest juiciest leaf, tear out a nice big bite and chew. Trust me, it is far less fuss than taking a large helping of something that potentially tastes awful!"
"Mmmm yes, the Savoy cabbage is delicious," he mumbled through a mouthful of leaves. I looked around. It appeared that no one seemed to think Mr Binks' display was unusual. There were no shouts of dismay, no bouncers threatening to throw us out on our ears. My, how times had changed.
We returned to our table with our spoils piled high on our plates, and began to eat. I brought Mr Binks up to date with the last 15 years of my life. He ate quietly - a remarkable thing in itselt - while I talked, chewing each mouthful in thoughtful introspection.
"You know," he said as he chewed his way through a piece of cabbage, "it seems strange to think how much time has passed, and how long it has been since we'd last spent any real time together. I'm glad for the chance meeting that led to this opportunity to share. Perhaps we could do it more often?" I got the feeling that he was a little lonely and needed to talk.
As we each tucked into a giant carrot, I invited Mr Binks to tell me his story. The last few years hadn't been terribly kind. Make no mistake, they hadn't been all that unkind either, it's just that the love of Mr Binks' life had run off several weeks before they were to be married. She'd gone to 'see the world'. We drank a toast to wish her well - after all - everyone should all 'see the world' at least once.
Aside from the misfortune of a lost love, Mr Binks had done surprisingly well for himself considering he was a bit of a hooligan in his younger days. On a tip from a friend he'd invested in a software company, called Micro-something, and had recently sold his shares for a bundle of cash. Work was going well, and on a more playful side he'd even started Pilates classes in an effort to meet more women.
We chatted easily, like the old friends that we were, when he suddenly looked up with a glint in his eye. "You know what I feel like doing right now? I feel like dancing! I feel like doing the Limbo - it's been years since I've seen how low I can go." And with that he leapt up, grabbed my arm and fairly dragged me through the doors leading to the basement dance floor.
We danced for several hours while Mr Binks charmed the ladies around us with his bright smile and suave dance moves. He was definitely still a lady-killer. He could even get his chin on the ground! Eventually, when the music changed from being lively and upbeat into something that rattled your kidneys, he covered his ears and yelled "Enough! Time to go - it's getting way too loud in here!"
We stumbled out of The Laughing Lagomorphs and made our way cross-town back to his rather lush home. It had certainly been a wonderful evening. We'd spent time catching up, had fun, made promises to do it all again and the only thing that earned a raised eyebrow was his parting shot, "How about a kiss for your old pal?"
The day that we were to meet up soon arrived, with me in a rather jovial mood. I knocked loudly on the large solid wood door. Mr Binks was always a stickler for security and I saw that not much had changed. Throughout our academic years, he always felt that someone was out to get him; and perhaps they were.
"Welcome my old friend!" he said in a booming voice, holding out his hand. "Please do come in, we're just about ready to leave." I followed him into the hallway when he suddenly turned to face me with a serious look.
"Tell me old man," he said turning like a model on a catwalk, "does this fur make me look fat?"
I looked him up and down and assured him that it didn't - well, not too much at any rate. What can one say to an old college mate who, if truth were told, had like all of us begun to thicken somewhat around the middle? This kind of this was par for the course, the aging course!
"Well then, grab your hat and your coat and let's be off!" he laughed. Mr Binks was definitely in good spirits this evening and not surprisingly either: he still cut quite a dashing figure and was sure to have the ladies whispering among themselves. Quite the eligible bachelor he was.
The Laughing Lagomorphs was filled to capacity and we could hear the steady heartbeat of the music thumping from the basement below. The dance floor must certainly have been 'pumping' as the youngsters so succinctly put it. After finding ourselves a small table, we threaded our way through the heaving crowd towards the buffet area.
"I trust, my dear sir, that you will find the fare to your satisfaction," said Mr Binks with a smile. No one could pull off the humble waiter look like he could! "Please follow me. I recommend the house speciality - the Savoy cabbage - tonight. While the food is always good at this establishment, I heartily recommend that you sample your selection prior to dishing up."
"Don't be shy, I do this all the time! Find yourself the biggest juiciest leaf, tear out a nice big bite and chew. Trust me, it is far less fuss than taking a large helping of something that potentially tastes awful!"
"Mmmm yes, the Savoy cabbage is delicious," he mumbled through a mouthful of leaves. I looked around. It appeared that no one seemed to think Mr Binks' display was unusual. There were no shouts of dismay, no bouncers threatening to throw us out on our ears. My, how times had changed.
We returned to our table with our spoils piled high on our plates, and began to eat. I brought Mr Binks up to date with the last 15 years of my life. He ate quietly - a remarkable thing in itselt - while I talked, chewing each mouthful in thoughtful introspection.
"You know," he said as he chewed his way through a piece of cabbage, "it seems strange to think how much time has passed, and how long it has been since we'd last spent any real time together. I'm glad for the chance meeting that led to this opportunity to share. Perhaps we could do it more often?" I got the feeling that he was a little lonely and needed to talk.
As we each tucked into a giant carrot, I invited Mr Binks to tell me his story. The last few years hadn't been terribly kind. Make no mistake, they hadn't been all that unkind either, it's just that the love of Mr Binks' life had run off several weeks before they were to be married. She'd gone to 'see the world'. We drank a toast to wish her well - after all - everyone should all 'see the world' at least once.
Aside from the misfortune of a lost love, Mr Binks had done surprisingly well for himself considering he was a bit of a hooligan in his younger days. On a tip from a friend he'd invested in a software company, called Micro-something, and had recently sold his shares for a bundle of cash. Work was going well, and on a more playful side he'd even started Pilates classes in an effort to meet more women.
We chatted easily, like the old friends that we were, when he suddenly looked up with a glint in his eye. "You know what I feel like doing right now? I feel like dancing! I feel like doing the Limbo - it's been years since I've seen how low I can go." And with that he leapt up, grabbed my arm and fairly dragged me through the doors leading to the basement dance floor.
We danced for several hours while Mr Binks charmed the ladies around us with his bright smile and suave dance moves. He was definitely still a lady-killer. He could even get his chin on the ground! Eventually, when the music changed from being lively and upbeat into something that rattled your kidneys, he covered his ears and yelled "Enough! Time to go - it's getting way too loud in here!"
We stumbled out of The Laughing Lagomorphs and made our way cross-town back to his rather lush home. It had certainly been a wonderful evening. We'd spent time catching up, had fun, made promises to do it all again and the only thing that earned a raised eyebrow was his parting shot, "How about a kiss for your old pal?"