Women in Threes (and Twos.)

While I’m on the subject of women, I thought I might as well do it in threes. That gives it a legendary air (as opposed to a Londonderry Air – or, as one old ex of mine thought it was spelled, a ‘London Derriere’ - which is a bit soppy.)

My ex, Mel, has just been for a few days away in Whitby with her friend Sammi from the shop. (Note: Sammi = girl; Sammy = boy. Got it?) They went in Sammi’s camper van, Sammi being a red-haired Yorkshire lass an’ all. Yorkshire lasses are a fearsome breed, and the red-haired variety particularly so. They’re second only to Northumbrian women, who make a passable living going over to Norway to intimidate the Kraken…

So anyway, Mel and Sammi did the Dracula Experience. They had fish and chips in a fish-and-chip café overlooking the place where Dracula’s ship made landfall, they sat in the churchyard (after dark) where the Count first made Lucy’s acquaintance, and then they read one another ghost stories on the beach, also after dark.

Best of all, though, they got through a whole bottle of Bells in two nights. Even Dracula can’t compete with that, and neither can I. That’s 25% more scotch than even I routinely drink.

‘We were a bit drunk,’ said Mel, who usually has trouble getting through half a bottle of scotch in a year.

(Come to think of it, I did once drink nearly a whole bottle of scotch in one night at a party. I passed out, sweating and shaking.)

So, Mel and Sammi had a good time, and they came back unscathed. That’s the main thing. I hope they didn’t annoy anybody.