New Tangled Tango #22


“It’s nice hearing you laugh again,” he said.

“Well, don’t build too much on it. I wouldn’t want you to think that flattery or flirting is going to soften me up.”


“I hear you,” he said. “I haven’t asked about Julian yet. How is he? Are you both still involved in amateur dramatics?”

“Julian’s fine,” she informed him, “and we still love the stuff we do at Amdram. I hear that you’ve taken up dancing.”

“True,” he agreed, “George and Beryl persuaded me to give it a try. You remember them don’t you?

“Oh, yes,” she said, “senior officers in the army of God.”

“It looks like Yalta would have been a piece of cake compared to the coming Costa conference.”

“You’d better believe it,” she said, “the dress code for you will be chain-mail.”

He laughed, “I note the warning.”

“Just for background information,” she said, “is there a hidden agenda, one that you haven’t mentioned to Peter, behind this sudden conversion?”

“You’ve lost me,” he said.

“This weekly dancing business,” she began, “is there a new love interest on the scene for whom you are forsaking the Faith? Are we to expect wedding bells?”

“I see. You have a really suspicious mind don’t you?” he said, “No, I’m not that devious. I can see where you’re coming from though. Listen, if new love were the Agenda, I’m not sure – to be honest – that we’d be having this conversation. Maybe we would. Perhaps I’d still want to know that you no longer had grounds for burying the hatchet in my head. No, Marjorie, my usual partner is Olwyn Fairhurst – a widow, true, but ten years older than I am. No romance there – or anywhere else for that matter.”

“Okay,” she said, “ Let’s leave it at that. Costa Coffee in the Precinct, Sunday 1st May at ten-thirty. Do you need to write it down or are you recording this call for prosperity?”

“I wouldn’t know how to record a call,” he said, “but I’m going to get my diary now and write it in. My memory doesn’t seem as reliable these days.”

“For pity’s sake Steve! By all means go and enter it in your diary, but you’re fifty-seven, not ninety-seven. There’s nothing wrong with your memory. Don’t try playing the sympathy card with me. I don’t have a pity gene left in my body.”

“Okay, okay!” he said, “three weeks on Sunday at Costa at ten-thirty. I’ll see you there.”

“Bye,” she said, “See you there.”

Featured Photo

I began the post today with a photo of Steve’s house again. I still don’t have – or expect to have – any indoor shots of conversations – especially telephone conversations – so I’ve featured another image from the social dance I visited for my photos.

EXIF data were: Fujifilm X-T4 26 MP cropped sensor mirrorless camera plus Fujinon XF 10-24 f/2.8 lens. 1/1000 secs @ f/2.8 and 55 mm. ISO was 6400.

Author: writingandphotography0531

I am a retired local government officer. At that time, I was an IT manager and had associated responsibilities for training. I have previously been involved, in various organisations, with aspects of industrial training and management development. My hobby is photography and, until recently, hillwalking in Snowdonia. I have just written my first novel, Persephone and the Photographer, published as a Kindle eBook.

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