It was clear to Carstairs that he would need to do something pretty soon to add a bit of zest to his life. He’d mentioned this to Carruthers last night and they’d reminisced at length, about the old days.

Carruthers had got that look in his eye, that old look he used to have when they’d gone hunting or carousing.

‘You know what old boy, maybe a bit of carousing is just what I need’ he said to Carruthers.

Nothing wrong with a bit of carousing, even at his ripe old age and Carruthers was certainly in favour. He may have lost his marbles but he seemed to be intact in the trouser department, at least, so he insisted.

‘Like a steel rod old man, never fails me’.

He’d started to unbutton his trousers and seemed intent on demonstrating how marvellously he was able to rise to the occasion. Fortunately the matron woman came in at that point and one look from her hatchet-face was enough to dampen any man’s ardour, even old Carruthers.

In his day of course, he’d been a notorious swordsman, all the women seemed to flock to him and he would come to the club many a Sunday lunchtime bragging about his exploits, how he’d managed to satisfy 2, 3 or one time 4 women in one night.

The very idea of it now made his nether regions ache in protest and the more he thought about it the more he thought he’d find a more relaxing pursuit to spice up his life, something a little more suited to a gentleman of his advanced years, watching cricket, maybe, or perhaps a ruddy good game of bridge.

It’s not that he didn’t’ appreciate the filly’s ,of  course he did, loved them as much as any man, but sometimes a chap needed a bit of peace and quiet and they do rather like to chatter away all the time, enough to drive a man doolally.

He’d only mentioned his plans to Carruthers in jest but he’d become so excited by the idea that he felt like he ought to go along with it.

At least the silly old bugger would have forgotten by the time he saw him next, rather handy really this loss of marbles.

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