Lunch Club

It’s ‘Lunch Club’ day! A day of wandering around West and Midwales looking for an eatery that will sate the discerning tastes of both myself and friends – well actually, it’s more a case of a bag of fish and chips at some out of the way chip shop!

Anyway, at the moment I am wondering what form of transport will arrive outside the house. Will it be a Rolls Royce? Will it be a Daimler Dart or even an Aston Martin? Who knows, any of them will probably have a few RAC vans following them. You see one friend in particular, loves his Classic cars and he’s the one who usually picks me up. Now,these ‘Classic’ numbers are beautiful to look at and listen to but the problem is they keep conking out.Thus the flotilla of RAC vans in hot pursuit.

When driving a Classic car always take an RAC van with you, trust me.

Once collected and when we have tried to out-insult each other (true friends are always able to condemn, berate and castigate each other with impunity, that’s what friendship is all about after all), we will seek out the other member of this day’s particular trio, a half Welsh, half Indian fellow who at nearly sixty is still trying to work out who he likes best – the whities or the brownies. At the moment it’s the brownies who are in favour, something to do with India being a brick and education so he says.

I love my ‘Lunch Club’ days.

They are days when a few, sometimes rather lost middle agers get the chance to eat, drink and abuse political incorrectness at will – and for the more bacchanalian among us, smoke. A day when men can be men without having to apologise for it, a day when beautiful wives tolerate and sigh with resignation and lastly a day when the world finally rights itself if only for a few hours.



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