Using the Time Productively.

Having been reminded that I was once suspected of being a serial killer, I grew tired of the TV and read the dating ads in this week’s edition of the local paper.

Best up was a woman of 73 who wanted a man ‘5ft 6in tall – just a little taller than me – and aged between 60 and 67.’ I assume a man of 5ft 7in would be too dominating, and a 68-year-old just a little too ancient to be a toy boy.

The most intriguing requirement, however, came at the end where she said ‘I like a dog.’ Not ‘I like dogs’ or ‘must be a dog lover.’ I like a dog.

What does she mean by that? Does she mean she likes a particular dog, such as the Shitzhu five doors down the road at number 73? Or does she mean ‘I like a dog served rare with cranberry sauce?’ Or could it be something altogether darker? Could she be offering her undoubted charms to a man with animalistic predilections?

Well, the image of a 73-year-old and a 67-year-old behaving like dogs – even in the privacy of her semi-detached bungalow with the curtains drawn – seemed just too emotionally daunting to contemplate, so I switched to the cryptic crossword puzzle and learned a new word. Egregious.

And so, by all criteria pertinent to a curmudgeonly recluse, a most productive evening.