Call me Compo…

Ah - the last of the summer wine... I’ll have a glass or two if you have any to spare.

As I was discussing with a friend of mine this morning here we are rushing towards our twilight years although these days they are likely to be pitch black.

Still, getting older and slowing down has its attractions.

There's a bowling green at the end of my road owned by the club members. Each time I walk past it I expect to see it being dug up by bulldozers, it really is a very attractive piece of real estate. Not yet though. Maybe I’ll apply to join, roll a few bowls, have a few pints and stumble home. Yes, the last of the summer beer as well.

Just around the corner, hidden away in a few trees set back from the main road just a little, is a very nice park bench. You can stroll past this little oasis without ever noticing it. Sometimes I pop up there for an hour and count cars, or simply watch the world pass me by as it seems to be doing so frequently these days. Maybe one day soon I’ll take along a bottle of cider and have a swig or two. Yes, the last of the summer cider too.

Oh well - see you on the park bench sometime if you fancy a Martini, shaken not stirred, vodka, crushed ice, with just a dash of blue bols. Yes, the last of the summer cocktails.

Just call me Compo, or some other such stupid name, and make mine a double.

Thanks. I'll have another.