It was early evening on the second Thursday of March, 2030 at the Marchesi Retirement home on Scalby road. Three of the newer residents, Fred, Dick, and Harry were sipping a half pint of shandy. They had used to walk to the nearby Nags Head but it had been revamped into a coffee shop some years ago, and beside the walk was now becoming a little strenuous for them.
Fred stirred, “we should be meeting our mates at 41 Club this evening for a good craic” he said. The others nodded sagely, “it folded two years ago” Dick mumbled a tear forming in the corner of his eye. “I remember those great evenings that young Cathcart organised, good food and great company always plenty to drink.“ Dick thought about those trips abroad to see his friends in Aalten.
The three stared at their drinks lost in a haze of pleasant memories. They remembered that 41 Club had simply withered for lack of new members. Harry exclaimed “and the shame is that we chose to let it die”. “Yes” said Fred, “we could have widened the membership, you remember those proposals back in 2018 to open membership beyond ex Tablers and perish the thought to our partners”. Dick nodded sagely, “but it was our choice, we did nothing, oh well time for Eastenders”
